Saturday, August 25, 2012



Dusk is my favorite time of day
I put on music, whatever my mood
pour a glass of rose wine, find a recipe
hunt for the essentials in refrigerator
spice closet, the sage is empty
I remember  she took her pencils
left no trace of her whereabouts 

I try to find her, there is an internet link
we know each other forty-eight years
we once had a bond, we once gave
to each other, then she moved on 
it hurts me I am no longer welcome
in her sphere, though once I was 
her lifeline with nothing to be forgiven

Written for  The Sunday Whirl #71 with these words:


  1. Wow, this is quite a tale, Willow. It is hard to lose a friend, a person to whom one was once SO close. Love the details, such as the empty sage, you put in this poem!(Wonderful use of the wordle words.)

  2. So sad... for this narrator to think of all those years with "nothing to be forgiven" -- all that, and now this. Nicely done!

  3. And so life goes, in and out, close than make for the little fertile space of sorrow, tucked into the back of our bag.

  4. Strange how sometimes people simply seem to outgrow others and it hurts not knowing...why. This has to hurt so much after all the years of having been close friends. I feel the pain in it but, there is no blame in your pen, just hurting.
    Very touching.

  5. I like the sage as a mundane trigger into such depth of feeling. Well done, Willow!

  6. I had a friend whom I thought was a good one....turned out not so much.....I tried to explain why I no longer wanted to be 'besties' with her anymore, but she wouldn't look into the mirror I held up. Yes, I outgrew her, and I know she is hurt....

    1. I did think I was a good friend, but I see from your poem how differences might intrude, an eye opening poem.

  7. I like how you tie the mundane task of making dinner to the loss of a friend -- just the way your mind does wander. I like this, identified with it even.

  8. Dusk is certainly a time for memories.

  9. I had a friend who simply stopped being a friend one day. No explanation. It hurt. She passed away about a year ago and I was devastated, none the less. Your poem is personal and universal, gently written with a lot of wisdom. Thank you,


  10. When the sage is empty, there is no one to consult...

    My Half-Whirl

  11. Poignant and real. Speaks about loss and longing, without whining, simple recognition of the parting. Wonderful.

  12. heartbreakking, how people seem to move on so easily without us.

    i like your dusk ritual - dusk is my favorite time of day.

  13. Thank you, All. I think it is natural, we outgrow all sorts of things...hopefully we grow better.