Today's prompt is to write an elegy using specific concrete words.
Artefacts of the Dead
They leave behind a range of things:
toothbrushes in different hues,
receipts and bills with the pain of names.
Empty chairs, a wardrobe of clothes
that from now on will go unused,
gathering memories like mothballs.
But it's the shoes that hit you in truth:
all lined up with nowhere to go.
Footnotes to the living of a life,
a battalion of quiet quotidian intent -
laces tied up tight, finishing line in sight.
Reminders of the feet they held
and the places they went;
all the paths now that will never be tread.
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