Dana

This is for her
for the relics she left me:
songs emanating from car stereos
smiling eyes watching snow fall
blue footprints embedded in ice
on paths we descended in stark darkness
and the day we met again.
The thruway under the barren sky,
diner booths engulfed in amber light,
these are monuments to our memories
built upwards still unfinished like the trees
(now made of clay?)
I don't have any pictures of her face
but I remember her,
shining in different shades of black
each more grey than the other
as the waves of people like tall grass
sway.