The silence is deafening.
You are just getting settled
In your new ghostly home.
But it is the first day of winter
and I cannot remember a winter
without you.
So I talk to your empty chair.
Your book and glasses on the table.
Even the pipe you loved
and I hated is not removed.
I breathe its aromatic perfumed
tobacco like I did before.
You never told me how sick you were
But  I knew…I knew.
Now wearing your old sweater
I call our number again and again
The machine resurrects your voice.
I savor every nuance and inflexion
the soft gentle timbre I loved.
For a brief moment you are back here
with me once more.
You ask me to leave a message.
It beeps.
I whisper
I miss you honey