Our Room Poem by Nellie Isabelle Steward Cooper

I try to think
How it will be
When from my heart
This room is taken

And
the spot where you stood,

And
The sound of falling apples
(outside our window)
By the high winds shaken, I wake
To the silence of the moon, caught
In the twigged trees

And you, will you speak
No more the

Ever- echoing words
When once from my heart
This room is taken?

Alas

From what chrysalis of
Being do I struggle to be born:
Something that cuts to heal
and severs to draw close...?

Or will there be only
Despair and desolation
As a lost child
That cannot mend
Its cherished toy