LAPSE

she used to love violets
a scent so gentle it bitters
with the passing time
amber sparkle on her throat
a token from a lost lover
turned to foolish gold
prone to sherry in her glass
a lazy afternoon
that blurred her vision
made pain and memory
bleed away
slowly
pieces falling off her past
a bauble here
a token there
like her beloved flower
memories turning acid and sour
her moments dimmed
lovers peeled like clothing
to the floor
forgotten
children
left to wonder
why they met a stranger's gaze
a sign of aging
a sentence of loss
no cure
no hope
just the darkening shore
washing everything and everyone
she ever loved away
perhaps it's just what happens
perhaps it's just a lapse