at dawn the sun
is banging on my door while
i am beneath the sheets
in a bed too large for one

i barely speak today;
i focus on mindless tasks or
the gentle walk of my feet
all minor distractions
from the silence

the draft from the back door
the sound of the sink running

the empty ache
of this house
without you

01/02/2008

Posted on 01/03/2008
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