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 

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