There is a moment when you are alone
Maybe washing the dishes or reading a book
That you stop what you are doing and turn around to look
Listening in silence for sounds once there
The squeak of a chair, a footstep on the stair
That says “I’m here, sweetheart. No need to be blue.
I’ll be there in a minute, right beside you.”
But soon the minute passes, and no presence do you find
Only shadows rummaging in the closet of your mind.
Bonnie
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