I hadn’t known her long, or at all.
I knew her by one name,
But every now and then
the remnants of her past became plain.
A different name, from a different life
Reminds me she was someone else’s wife.
The radio plays and she drifts away.
I reach for her delicate hand,
The one without a ring,
But with the shadow of a band.
She offers a smile as I wonder what she’s thinking.
Her far off sadness has my heart sinking.
Will she think of me in that wistful way
When I’ve joined the ghosts of yesterday?
– Jennifer Cusumano