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At our first meeting, you had physical substance,
solid and weighty.
I made note of your presence, -
hooked nose, widow's hump, and your kind, but discerning eye.
No one else did;
They had ceased to years before.
Your gradual disappearance, indiscernible at first,
an insubstantiality as the years passed.
You, - reduced to
a clattering of china in the kitchen,
a faint humming in the background.
First your eyes went.
Were they blue or brown?
Finally your fragile bird bones
faded into the woodwork.
Your hands, the last to go.
You see,
we needed them.
Callista Caduceus
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