A paper boat beside the garden stone,
Red paint drying where the old gate groans.
You left a note beneath the chipped blue cup —
Three small words I couldn’t take back up.
Afternoon turns silver on the glass,
I hold my breath, let the moment pass.
If you’re still there, leave the window open,
I’ll follow the path where the wild thyme grows.
No grand goodbye, no promise broken,
Just your hand finding mine before the cold.
A yellow scarf from the kitchen chair,
Dust settles slow in the folding air.
Kettle clicks, then settles down,
House learning how to wait around.
First train bends beyond the hill,
I’ll say your name, everything goes still.
Not every distance asks us to depart —
Some roads are only trying to join two hearts.
Paper boat turns slowly by the stone,
Carries your small words safely home.
Leave the Window Open
© Copyright: Одинокий Страник, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126091106919
Свидетельство о публикации №126091106919
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