The smell of lemon spray

The smell of lemon spray,

cutting through the quiet air.

Each cupboard opened, a small, new scare.

Behind a can of soup, a forgotten place,

a box of crackers, without grace.

Half-eaten, stale, a yellowed trace,

of ordinary hunger, now erased.

I felt the dust settle on my hand,

trying to understand.

Her last crumbs, left behind,

a tiny thing to leave the mind.

Into the bin, they went with a sigh,

underneath a colder sky.