Specks of Dust

I hurry to catch you at the door
before you leap onto the lapel of the evening.

Your mother sends her love.
She sends you her condolences
for the beloved you have lost.

She knows it’s late and
that it will only hurt you.
She said that’s how it is.

She and your father are leaving.
He, far away.
She, alone.

Give my regards to the evening.
The specks of dust on her lapel
will whirl in intimate closeness.