Left Behind

The ceiling bears witness, a stain like a sigh,

a reminder that life leaves marks on the sky.

Caught in the light, it shifts and it sways,

a tale of the drip that once fell through the days.

Reflections in puddles reveal what we hide,

each blot tells a story, a truth we abide.

I glance at the ceiling, that darkened design,

knowing some stains stay long after the shine.