I discovered my loss once I’d found the note.
It wasn’t that you weren’t there that affected me so much.
It’s that you weren’t everywhere.
You weren’t in the kitchen where we laughed.
The dining room where we ate.
The garden, we played or the bedroom we ached.
It was too late.
You weren’t heard in the other rooms.
No clothes, no smell of perfume.
No responce to my voice, no answers, no words.
I found the note and held it.
You weren’t in my fingers for they were numb.
Nor my heart, was this alone?
You weren’t in my arms… what had I done?
My tears stained the paper, until like you..
…it was gone.
©G.P Williamson 2017