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