about when my sister left home
That was the last time.
Your keys will never again unlock
The maze of the front door
No more will you struggle to
Twist the double handles simultaneously.
I will not hear your cry for assistance
Late at night, when all is quiet
But I hear your call sharp as the air
You will not juggle your basket here.
That is not to be.
And the music of your left button,
The 'shared car', will not ring out.
The black smooth machine never behind the gate,
Always in front,
Ready and waiting for your cue.
As my diaphragm heaves
And my eyes fill I know
You will not be coming home.
For your home is elsewhere now,
You can only scrape the surface.
45 to take-off,
And I'm alone,
But my breath escapes uncontrollably,
Gasping, but I can't breathe
Needing you, but you're not here
I don't know if you ever really were.
So turn from your realm and run,
Set up camp, leave a bit behind,
Just enough so you still need your key
To be able to enter if you so wish
But not a casualty of the house anymore.
A free agent now,
Your own space to wait
for me to intrude.
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 700 times
Written on 2006-09-09 at 07:57
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Etched In Mud
That was the last time.
Your keys will never again unlock
The maze of the front door
No more will you struggle to
Twist the double handles simultaneously.
I will not hear your cry for assistance
Late at night, when all is quiet
But I hear your call sharp as the air
You will not juggle your basket here.
That is not to be.
And the music of your left button,
The 'shared car', will not ring out.
The black smooth machine never behind the gate,
Always in front,
Ready and waiting for your cue.
As my diaphragm heaves
And my eyes fill I know
You will not be coming home.
For your home is elsewhere now,
You can only scrape the surface.
45 to take-off,
And I'm alone,
But my breath escapes uncontrollably,
Gasping, but I can't breathe
Needing you, but you're not here
I don't know if you ever really were.
So turn from your realm and run,
Set up camp, leave a bit behind,
Just enough so you still need your key
To be able to enter if you so wish
But not a casualty of the house anymore.
A free agent now,
Your own space to wait
for me to intrude.
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 700 times
Written on 2006-09-09 at 07:57
Tags Loss
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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