Gone Poem by Robert Rorabeck

No perfumes at nighttime- the house does not
Proceed, does not lie yellow
Spangles of family against family- does not
Read by the luminescent lights
Nor do soft feet cross and bless the foyer:
Bachelor’s room without a dog to spell by-
And the flowers do not bloom,
But up in the morning after super time:
School again, and yards and yards of students who
I cannot look in the eye- after years of passing,
Will they finally be gone:
And like them, will I finally have her echoes finally
Then out of me.