The Loss
Every loss is felt
Just as a ripple is spelt in water
Ever decreasing, calming asunder
A clock ticks in a house even emptier than before
The dark lingers in a hall still and sure
The cat rules now
Wondering why and how
Water weeps from a pungent wound
Never to be cleaned but to neglect and fester
Such a thought no beautiful sight could hinder
Leaving the loss of feeling to ripple and linger
A sudden holding of breath
Never willing to release
Hoping for hope to draw inside you
But knowing the guilt and dread that bind you
Your tears crack and flow from the weight of it all
Their world, their stories yet to hear their call
As their soul is stuck in the rhythm of that hallway
Ticking in time for the rest of your days