After the Rooms

Curtains lift in borrowed wind, Wooden floors cool down. Dust turning in late light, No one standing around. Chairs keep their quiet shape, Windows face the street. Even without our weight, The walls remain complete. Long after hands fall still, Long after names grow thin, Summer will lean into the glass, And autumn will step in. Rain will gather at the edge, Run silver down the stone. The world will turn without a pause, Soft and all its own. Footsteps fade from memory, Doorways lose their sound. Air moves through the empty space Without looking around. Nothing asks to be preserved, Nothing pleads to stay. Warmth disperses into air, And air just drifts away. Long after hands fall still, Long after names grow thin, Summer will lean into the glass, And autumn will step in. Rain will gather at the edge, Run silver down the stone. The world will turn without a pause, Soft and all its own. Long after breath grows quiet, Long after we let go, Light will rest on open ground In patterns we won’t know. No fear inside the turning, No plea to carry on. Only the steady earth beneath That keeps moving on.