Traces

I am walking in your garden now in a daydream,
Following your footsteps in the green,
Trying to find you in every mark left unseen.

The rain gently washed away the dust off the fig tree this morning,
The tree once planted with your own bare hands,
Your fingerprints on the leaves, left untouched

Your love, embedded in the old paint bucket,
The bucket always kept full with water for the birds,
Now abandoned in a forgotten corner

The trees are wearing their best look at dawn,
covered in the perfume of wet soil.
The world smells like home again when washed down,
but this garden is so empty now that you are gone.

I am walking in your garden now in a daydream,
Following your footsteps in the green,
Trying to find you in every mark left unseen.