The dresser drawers pulled open

The dresser drawers pulled open,

each one a small, cold gasp.

Receipts for things long broken,

a single sock, held in my grasp.

Her scent, faint floral, clinging

to the half-empty tube of cream.

The small, mundane things bringing

the end of a half-forgotten dream.

Dust motes hang in the sunbeam,

over a life, carefully undone.

Every object, a fading gleam,

a final task, never quite won.