Now you’re away…

Now you’re away the home is just a house,
our rabbit only warmth, the windows cold;
the flowers placed aside have died to mould.
Within the walls, between the pipes, a mouse
is scratching randomly; and what I browse
among the papers strewn about are old
commentaries scribbled in the gaps: I told
you so, it works fine. – Do you like this blouse?
It’s safe to say I miss you, and I do,
too terribly to say how much, since you
walked through those gates. The hours stretch ahead,
and all I do is dream of you. The rest
of the year has left with you, and our nest,
once full, is now a blankness in the bed.

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