eleanor may

eleanor may, house vacant for two or three days.

silver and blue tinsel tossed carelessly on the kitchen window,

couldn't bother herself to put up anymore,

family traditions feel like a sickening guilt.

a tiny bag of collected stones next to the door,

one of the few things that made her less miserable,

nothing else really settled right with her.

 

eleanor may, pattered through the back yard,

trudging footprints covered by stale snow.

scarf dropped behind the gate, frozen stiff as a board.

small feet skipped up the old wooden path,

numb fingers gripping the ice-bitten railing,

of a bridge over her childhood's favorite river.

all the lovely little memories trickled away with the current.

 

eleanor may, though the water long frozen over,

no deep breath in, nor deep breath out was made,

lungs too tight and knuckles too white,

who never let anything stop her from getting her horrid way,

not even bitting ice below a many yard drop,

or the nagging feeling at her heart's strings,

nor the unsent messages from her family and friends.

 

eleanor may, without a second thought,

made her mark on her last cold winter day,

hit her target and broke through the icy wall,

left an her unsettling presense behind at her hearth at home.

 

eleanor may, missed by all but knew by none.