Ghost

The faint smell
Of lavender
And melted chocolate
Is all you left behind

And the fading tones
Of soft Tchaikovsky
Drifting lazily
Through
Empty rooms

Dying lilies
Trace my eyes
As I sit and think
Of your trickling laughter
As you sat
Admiring their velvet petals

Prize roses, picked without care
From sweeping gardens,
Shoved into a vase
At my bedside.
You, smiling proudly
And traipsing out
Dragging
Your blanket behind you

A high rope swing
Hanging from the beech tree
Fraying and creaking
And finally
Snapping with
A sickening crack
As you plummeted
To the roses below