The air in your house
Is far too still:
Your dog's been adopted.
Donations made to Good Will.
All of your things
Were put in their places,
Sold at the estate sale,
Or given to friendly faces.
The corner where you'd sit,
In your favorite reclining chair,
And watch tv or movies
Is now completely bare.
Your bedroom looks the same,
With your bedspread neatly made,
But without your voice and laughter,
The colors have seemed to fade.
The lives of all who knew you
Are like this house that stands alone.
We were enriched by your existance,
But are duller now on our own.
I sit lightly on the edge of your bed
And my eyes begin to glisten
Because I swear that I could hear you still
If I could just bear to listen.
A contest entry
- TEN THOUSAND POINTS OF RHYME (Now 20,000+) Part 8 Sad/Nostalgia by cricketjeff.
1500 points, ended January 24, 2008, 51 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Thank you for your entry in our contest, a very sad and touching poem that was a joy to read.
We look forward to reading more of your work should you enter it in our future contests.
Sue and Jeff
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