In empty rooms
filled with the scent
of nicotine and loneliness,
once shining
memories of bronze
turned verdigris
through harsh winters;
Breaths,
footsteps,
glances,
the dots and dashes
of life
rendered indecipherable
by the passing of time;
Its fragile tones
a melancholy tune
on an old music box
that echoes in empty rooms;
Bereft of
breaths
footsteps
glances.