I spent weeks looking for an end or
an epiphany to come to me,
in the iridescent reflections of rain puddles
where there was nothing to be found
except for painful reminders
of what I was trying to forget.
So I went inside and found
solace in my own solitude,
staring out my bedroom window,
as I watched the breeze flutter the bark
peeling from the branches of the river birch tree.
The symphony of the past didn’t echo
quite as much and a new kind of
eloquence replaced yours.
And most importantly,
I could breathe again.