he saw a flicker of memory cross her face
like a flint at furnace sparkles
a quiet blue fire at the edge of the light
visible to him and him alone
as if the leaves of autumn salute the winter
of their passing
and the falling man stabs the earth
some unholy dagger at its heart
he asked her why she left
she did not reply
like a woman boards a train
and does not look back
Flynnpoetry 