They leave a note
with scribbled care
Torn at the edge like someone's dare
Please feed her if she comes again
A folded plea and faded pair
Milk left out on a shallow
plate Another sign that someone waits
No name is written, none
is said Just soft routines for lives unsaid
The bench is dry from morning sun She used to sit there,
then she'd run
Now only leaves curl where she sat A daily pause replaced by lack
Milk left out on a shallow plate Another sign that someone waits
No name is written, none
is said Just soft routines for
lives unsaid
Not every presence leaves a mark Some just linger after dark
The
corner's worn
from daily steps They sweep around it,
nothing's left
Somehow still they pour the cream A
habit or
a shadowed dream
Like steam on glass or morning rain
She might return or just remain