Quiet Poem by Patricia Williams

How quiet a house can be when you are alone
Rain drops sounds like it is hitting with stone
The wind tears though the walls to your soul
And you roam the bed as if you were in a fish bowl
I miss your snores and roaming in the night
I miss your body against me holding me tight
I go to bed early to escape the big nothingness
But I find it waiting between the sheets of emptiness

The television greets me as I walk through the door
I leave it on to chase the ghosts that hide underneath the floor
They whisper when I'm gone to the drapes and the walls
They say how life and time in this house only crawls
I look in the fridge, nothing appeals to my senses
So I stare at the grass you planted growing by the fences
I curl up on the couch and try to lose myself in a book
But my mind wanders back to your departing look

Your home is a barracks in a faraway land
Filled with soldiers, hard work and oceans of sand
The wind tears through your world like and ocean
But is lost in the motion of violence and emotion
Each day that you are gone I mark off the calendar
And dream of our reunion with kisses warm and tender
But my house stays quiet and time crawls into darkness
While misery and sepeartion accentuates the sharpness