I have written the name of your project on a slip of paper
and lit it on fire,
watched the flames as they caught hold,
seeking out, caressing
virgin white paper.
The flames left a trail in their wake;
transfixed, my eyes glued to its advance—
velvety grey shadows meeting
passionate red sparks and brilliant orange light.
All that remains, a pile of ashes in my hand.
I whisper your name and offer them up to the wind,
The wind carries away your remnants,
scattering to all corners.
Nothing left now,