Graveyard Snow

by Rye Brayley

I still recognize your last words, often
I hum them

All it takes
to create a ripple
in this sallow pond,
are words so frail

You’re a love long lost
or an unexpected guest
on this breezeless night
for a frozen soul
forever between worlds,
if that’s what I so choose

And in this half-light
you will stay beside me forever
A memory
An echo

I do not need any flesh to see
I know your shape in darkness

Rye Brayley is in his late 40s. Originally from Queens, NY, currently residing in Ybor City, Tampa. Rye has most recently been published by RESURRECTION, Mad Swirl & Alien Buddha Zine vol. 52.
X: @ryebrayley