I'll return from my exile,
back on country roads
lodging in this foreign space,
another one of my "abodes".
I'll apologize for their trouble,
while the true abode
and your essence residing still
will have turned to rubble,
four walls and the roof,
embraced you in the flesh,
when even to me
they were aloof.
The bed and the pillows,
clasped you to sleep
gold brown hair all set free
years later,
it will have been buried
with your essence residing still
in the abode's dead debris.