Familiar Love
Familiar love, like ticking clock,
Kept every day sound filled,
Its steadiness unheard by me
Until his voice was stilled.
The TV turned to football,
A softly clearing throat,
Merely background noises
Of which to take no note.
His running of the water
In routine daily showers,
So tranquil but in memory
So loud it over-powers.
The rustling of the paper
As he turns another page.
His noise of indignation
As he reads of some outrage.
The quiet in this winter
Of my life is hard to bear.
How can one miss the constancy
Unnoticed when it's there?
So loud the ticking of the clock,
On my cheek a silent tear
In homage to those little sounds
No longer there to hear.
For Fast and Fabulous Contest.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2010
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