Since You've Left

Since you've left, The soil still bears your footprints, In the yard with the old oak tree outside. Since you've left, The tap still drips in the sink, As if paused mid-turn. Since you've left, The cushions in the sofa lay haphazard, Waiting to make space for you again. Since you've left, The vendor waits an extra minute, While passing by the house. Since you've left, The old neighbour still looks over my shoulder, When he sees me approach. Since you've left, Lullabies don't sit on the tongue, With the same familiarity as they used to. Since you've left, Toddlers have stopped gazing at the world, With the same wonder and awe. Since you've left, The lady down the road missed a loop, While knitting the sweater for her youngest. Since you've left, The willow droops lower, Despite the early spring. Since you've left, Hope has become helpless, And anticipation reconciled with dread. Since you've left, The moon has ceased to rouse poetry, While its blemishes have taken up the words and the ink.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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