Epitaph

In the shadows behind the cabana where water drips from faucets
And the peaceful steadiness of a leaking heartbeat becomes a puddle—
Sitting in the depression that regrets mistakes made long ago,
Lays a lonely memory of what has passed and is no more.
A single paper folded twice with one word written,
Buried beneath the earth and fading along the crease,
Lies worn with recent history among the shallow roots.
The silent garden where this planted paper hides dormant
Near the combined shade of the house and canyon walls,
Which conceal the path through the detailed landscape,
Forgets the dripping and puddles that once existed
before the sun returned to its full height in the sky,
And evaporated this word I wrote—
WHY