by: Howard L. Kessler

The quiet house, wherein I stay,
The long goodbyes we said each day
So many more we'd hoped there'd be,
Before you'd fly away from me.

Our door a storm blew open, but
We could not fully close it shut.
We faced the season's wind and rain:
A beast restrained, but never tamed.

You could not tell when you would leave,
Each new goodbye made us believe,
That though the door was opening wide,
You'd always dine here at my side.

A silence cried out at the end:
A stillness now must be my friend.
I found the door locked with no key
A stranger's house this is to me.

In memory of John... For Stephanie

October 2012