It’s far too quiet with you gone –
the wind’s whisper, a door’s creak
roll like thunder through the house,
shaking us to attention.
Even the dogs search for you
in the silence,
eyes and ears alert
for your return to them.
Your boots sit unlaced by the bed,
standing watch over us
in a room too big, a bed too empty
without your heart to fill it.
The dogs curl like commas…
their breathing slows and paws twitch
in a midnight chase after
Phoebe snuggles against your pillow,
breathing in your scent
as she snores.
I watch her sleeping,
in the night.
– ljh 10/3/2015