Two beds. Side by side.
A silence is settling. Particles of dust, speaking a language of a long played dance, slowly spin on long forgotten songs and rising thermals.
A pair of curtains, once vibrant, now so threadbare as to have ceased to function, catch the changes in the daylight. Simple, faded, yellow patterned. Seashells. Distant memories of aching arms once hung with the crumpled and crimped fabric. These thoughts now pass.
Two wooden chairs.
Upon one; Trousers folded. Patched. Braces attached. Shirt, one, white ‘ish with cuffs worn and sleaves rolled. Wool socks, balled, soft plug worn leather shoes.
A single exhillation. Felt but unheard. How many have breathed today into yesterday?
Lips that beamed potentials, now dry. Spoke words, joined two. Joined to. Journied far.
An arm lays out stretched, a hand, fingers reaching. But she went. So they cried
When. Long time gone. Passion and life spent in full heart and heat, impercepably cooled as all things do with ages infirmity
And those particles string us together for ever. Even more so now as we unwind.