Thursday, August 16, 2007

It Happens

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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