I stumble into the dark house
holding a clothes basket and a backpack
and marvel at how strange it is to be back.
after two weeks in a warm place
my short-covered legs are cold enough
that i'm fearing mid-summer frostbite,
and in the quest to prevent that,
i see the small things i'd never notice-
everything vaccuumed, swept, mopped and washed,
all electronics- off,
my brothers room- clean,
mine- barren,
the heaters- dusted,
cobwebs- gone,
bathrooms rugs and towels- matching,
the mirror- clean of toothpaste splatter,
and the bathroom counter empty.
I smile as i change into pants
thinking about how empty this house is
without me;
how empty it will be-
without me
©Brandon Webb
2012