and when she was gone
the house lost its voice
no laughter echoed
no giggles,
no braying,
no full-bellied mirth
banter lost its purpose
no rejoinders,
no quips,
no quotes apropos
sounds of life fell silent
no snores,
no clatter of dishes,
no questions shouted from two rooms away
instead, only
stockinged feet
on hardwood floors
hushed whispers
with the laconic housecat
the ticking of clocks
and soundless steeping tea
for when she was gone
it felt wrong
to laugh
to love
to live
but spring was coming
her favorite season
and her roses still wanted
to bloom
the ether screams
Kurt R.A. Giambastiani 