Each empty room
I walk into each empty room -
the house you'd lived for years -
although you're gone, I feel you still,
and cannot help the tears.
I sense your presence, that I'd swear,
as though you're watching me;
I turn around but you're not there
(at least I cannot see).
I whisper, 'Love you' - just in case
and close my eyes to 'see' your face.
Copyright © Jack Horne | Year Posted 2024
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