Ophelia

You couldnt really see her

Prominence wasn’t her

Greatest gift.

  

But you’d know, the treacle

Wouldn’t linger on tastebuds

The way it does,

If it wasn’t for the saccharine

That chose to dissolve

And disappear within.

  

Or the scents

That lingered in the air for hours,

Even when all that remained of the rose

Was a few withered petals

And a dried up core.

  

So you could tell

She had walked around

The corridors, without a sound

Without being seen.

  

You could tell,

That her hands had moved

Over parchments, ever so lightly,

As if fearful of hurting them

And written the kindest words.

  

You could tell,

That she had lived

And touched your life,

Even in her absence.

  

For it matters as little now-

When she’s ceased to be around

As when she used to be…

And yet the world is a different place

Without her in it.

  

©Sai

15/1/21

Pic Credit: Debby Hudson (Unsplash)