The Empty House

The Empty House My first recollections of our life here Will always be the tropical landscape, The endless rows of swaying palm trees, The miles of impressionist shades of green, And the abundant brilliant bursts of color. First days, spent meandering a new world, Drinking in everything our eyes could find. Newcomers, wrapped in a cloak of innocence, And overcome with a tidal wave of nature, That thrust her forceful will over everything. The long and trancelike, mornings walks, And the unrushed pace of life being lived. All of the smiling, agile, time worn faces, Accepting of life and seeing fate as fate. But life is never just the beauty that surrounds, And sometimes answers are revealed slowly, In measured indomitable beats of human time. Time only measured in days laid on top of days, Like songs strung together in life’s symphony. Tonight, a full moon rises over an empty house, Finding only bare floors and stark blank walls, Silent moonlight, in rooms stripped bare of you, As time and life here begin another new chapter, Over and over again, in forever’s unending story.