As you leave, the fog draws close
grey, still, weak and pallid,
a duck swims lanquidly in a muddy rock pool
lonesome waddling speckled mallard

The wine tastes sweet in stemmed glasses
as music of a bygone vintage
plays the songs of love and heartache
and pen aids in time's slow passage

Children putter in distant rooms
quiet play of imagination
scattered thoughts invade my comfort
missing your voice is my recreation

Fog draws close its cold wet blanket
as from my life I adjourn
passing time alone and empty
until your overdue return

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Anonymous said…
OH, now I miss him too!
I love the line "missing your voice is my recreation." It made me feel sad, and yet I smiled at the creative way of expressing the emotion.
Shadow said…
'...your overdue return'. what a perfect ending...
Sara Diana said…
that was beautiful x
Deepanjan Ghosh said…
Beautiful!!! Awesome!!!