almost nothing

You carry almost nothing with you, now.
Maybe a smell, a color comes to you
but you almost cannot remember her name.
And your fingers unconsciously twist
in the hair of the cat, caress the meerschaum
trinket

while your eyes have drifted to the horizon but
cannot make out what you were doing there.
It all goes away from you
as if you were traveling.

But you are still there,
like a grove in the mist,
like the center of a goat’s eye.