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 .