The room resounds with silence
pressing against my ears.
There are no footsteps here,
no sounds of coughing, of shuffling,
of presence.
The clanking of pans does not
come through the door from the kitchen
and the cold makes me shiver.
No person is there to wrap their arms around me,
to warm my bare shoulders.
No comforting arms open to collapse into,
to cry into,
no breathing to fall asleep listening to.
The dust collects on the rocking chair in the corner
and the silence,
the silence resounds in the room
pressing against my ears.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
The room resounds with silence
pressing against my ears.
There are no footsteps here,
no sounds of coughing, of shuffling,
of presence.
The clanking of pans does not
come through the door from the kitchen
and the cold makes me shiver.
No person is there to wrap their arms around me,
to warm my bare shoulders.
No comforting arms open to collapse into,
to cry into,
no breathing to fall asleep listening to.
The dust collects on the rocking chair in the corner
and the silence,
the silence resounds in the room
pressing against my ears.
Request permission to use this poem