With the Dew
With the Dew A mist gathers Round your old chair Hiding the cushions And the impression Where you sat I can sense it there Through the haze But your weight now rests On tired shoulders Pulling down, down, down As the air grows cool For that moment is here Just before sunrise When the fog settles to dew Upon that familiar Resting place Droplets, droplets droplets, soak Into the worn leather Swelling and staining it The cushions expanding Until your imprint is gone Save that which is left Upon sagging shoulders J.M. Rogers