It is every day,
Lived, absent your toothbrush in
The cup by the sink,
The cooking a tragedy
One meal a problematic measure,
Eating alone, emptiness,
Indigestion, unpleasant;
The house a hollowness
An echo chamber where
Your laugh almost erupts,
But no, your grin has departed,
A vacancy, no sale, no rent,
The days and nights a hazy daze.
***
His being so rare
A tremble of vocals sure,
Might never have been.
***
The quality of
Light, bare trees and fallen leaves,
Spring awaits entrance.
***
The diamond splatter
Of fresh shed, newly rendered
Tears touched, breaking hearts.
***
Today has been that day a writer dreams when words soar onto pages as if they are eagles taking wing. It is funny because, physically, I am fighting instability. I hope that some of what I have written has touched you as it has me. I am catching myself singing and smiling and being almost at peace.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Haphazard Creative 