For Stella

He wonders where she’s gone,
the woman who would sit
on this bench
on the Heath
every day
singing softly
sometimes
singing
sadly
solitary.

She would stretch out her arms
across the back of the bench
so that she filled it
leaving no space
for anyone else
no space for him
passing by
so sad
so lost
so full
of loss.
He named her Stella.

And now
he sits there
remembering
her notes
in his ears,
her face
in his head
wondering
where she is
if she remembers
him
passing by.

He sits there
solitary
sipping
his tea
wondering
how
not to forget
his Stella.

https://www.orenaugmountainpublishing.com/2024/02/for-stella.html