Long day of being out and about,
There is just one thing I'd like to do
Reach home, far away from the crowd
Where the memories remain, yet I am new.
Ting tong
The doorbell of my house mocks me
A distant parcel of courtesy
The doorway waits for my quiet retreat,
Undo my shoes like muscle memory.
Scent feels new yet bizarrely foreign.
My coat rests itself on the couch.
Passing the plant I'd long forgotten,
Against the plastic drawer it lay slouched.
Lights on, were the only sign of presence
Glass on the table, left alone
The bed frame grins at my worn essence
The radio silent like echoes hum a monotone.
The hands that chased finishing emails,
Forgetting life, traded an array of means.
Ticking time missing details,
Voices changed and faded to steam.
And in these rooms that once felt heard,
Flew the mystic of a crying herd.
Embracing change yet forgetting the familiar,
Till my own impression became unclear.