My Fossil

You will find my fossil
One morning.
Opening a book on native lore
An old note spills to the floor
Words gentle, and warming.

Yellowed and creased
You will urge it to reveal
Sentiments remaining
Indelible, but fading
Scribed below a golden seal.

A quiet day will come
Zenithed in bright noon
Framed in mourning dove’s song
And you will grieve me gone so long
Seized by the sad bird’s tune.

You will find my fossil
My hankie in your drawer
A verse or two I wrote
My kiss upon your throat
As I held you at your door.

You will find my fossil
By happenstance or fate
Curiosity, or divine will
And, you will love me still
Though it is far, far too late.