It is only a small absence.

But she leaves a vacuum.

It is only a small place.

But it echoes with her.

There are no great rooms.

But only empty spaces.

She is only a small person.

But she fills the house with ghosts.

We are only little people.

But I sense a great cavern.

There are things to be done

But they exists with out purpose.

The distance is not far.

But the phone cannot bridge it.

Our pets look round corners.

But find no understanding.

Our friends are thoughtful.

But they cannot fill the void.

Lonely is not new.

But as sharp as ever.

We are old.

But still vulnerable.

The time will pass.

But not the longing.

I am alone on an ocean.

The waves are real.

 
 

David Garlick, Sidney, October, 2006