An expanse

An expanse

More than just space

Less than empty.

A stretch of sofa,

Left unoccupied

Decorative cushions scattered

In a random way

So unlike you

To leave them like that.

The hair dryer

Lies like a smoking gun

On the dresser

Willing me to use it

On myself.

A fascinator

Less of a hat

More a conversation piece

Hangs over a mirror

Gathering dust.

Overshoes

Stand side by side

Miniature guardians

At the garden door.

They still carry the stain

Of last year’s mud,

What will happen if they

Are moved

Will they walk out

On me

Where will such steps take them?

How can paintings

Hung in abstraction

Grow into the leaves

Of a memory tree

And speak so eloquently

Without uttering

A single sound,

Soothing the transition

From one moment

To the next,

I bathe in their reprieve.

There is even solace

In the homely clutter

Of nest building

It speaks in

A wistful voice

An ironic apology.

A warm flush

Of nostalgia

When the volume

Of accrued hush

Is unbearable

And the resonant space

Between each heart beat

Is congested

By the keening crush

Of longing.