Last Chew

The dust motes swam in quiet light,

a silent film, slow and deep.

Each drawer I opened, left and right,

a life laid bare, secrets to keep.

Underneath a pile of receipts,

in a box of buttons, dull and gray,

I found a stick of gum, no cheats,

half-eaten, tucked away.

Its wrapper crinkled, slightly old,

a faint mint scent, a fleeting trace.

A small habit, untold,

a quiet end to a hurried pace.