Slight

I danced, when life had gone,

Out from the dying town,

Only to hear the echo

Of my feet:

The clicking sound of bones

In an abandoned oasis.

Between the empty houses

The sun came through,

Though cut to shards

Of light,

As a broken mirror.

There is no grave,

No place for flowers,

Or an allowance for forgiveness.

There is only time:

Roughly measured

By the slight gasp

Of a single breath.