Vapor Trail by JD DeHart

Vapor Trail

following the path

of what has been left behind

a brief memory

splash or flock of memories

there was a wooden

ship, the biggest toy imaginable,

so big it was not a toy,

but it was treated like one

the smell of smoke,

a confluence of ash trays

there was an old man

like a father, but not a father,

the memory of his death now

lost, an old lady who might

or might not have been sane

there was rain, an uncomfortable

time, digging a grave,

feet splashing in mud

that's where the vapor

becomes wisp and disappears

with nothing but a name

barely used anymore.

JD DeHart is a writer and teacher.  He blogs at jddehartpoetry.blogspot.com.