No Trace

There's no trace of yesterday,
 just an empty vestige of youth-
upon these hollow halls, I once walked
down in fear, an echo resounds in
recalling your name, subtle lips whispered
with timidity, faint breath sighs, now all 
is lost; there's no trace upon the vacant beach
where you once bathed in the salty air with 
your strawberry wine cooler; there's no trace
of laughter from your noxious and lovely mouth;
there's no trace of the driftway toward your house,
weeds assemble in an erratic line, fence rows currently
are cluttered with sprigs of uncut grass and bramble;
there's no trace of your wisdom, just your letters, poems,
and notes I saved; there's no trace of your kindness you 
enraptured upon your always welcomed guests; there's no
trace of your ardent indulgence in handicapping horseracing; 
there's no trace of your witty rapport and your blistered 
anecdotal scathing; there's no trace of the moonlight you 
shamed and sullied with love; there's no trace of life where
you once walked; there's no trace of the sunburst that gleamed
from your presence; there's no trace of me and you anymore,
only your marked grave separates the invariable and constant
loneliness. 

- John Hardesty