Emptiness in the crib, bedroom door – ajar.
The bedding is warm, her scent retaining.
On the couch, forlorn, is a lone guitar,
Books - on the floor, and outside – it’s raining.
Emptiness in the house, body frame shakes.
Silence reigns sovereign. The faucet, dripping,
With the regular calm of a metronome, breaks
Time into segments that are quietly slipping
Through my fingers. Hollowness - in my chest.
Gone is the bell, though the echoes follow
In my temples, resounding with distress.
In my throat - your absence is hard to swallow.