Haunting

I live in a haunted manse:

Every breeze ruffling a curtain

The touch of your ephemeral hand

Drawing aside the blinds

To allow your memory just a peek

Into the window of my melancholy.

Every creak of a loose board

The infinitesimal weight of your footsteps

Making the rounds

Ensuring I am safe in my exile.

When my teakettle whistles

I know you come running,

Answering the call.

Your fingertips glide across my

Eyelids when I doze alone

On our loveseat made for two.

I can feel the shifting of the cushions

As you sit next to me,

A feather light tug on my scalp as you

Twirl a fingertip in my hair

Like you always so loved to do.

The smell of your Irish Spring

Lingers on the pillows …

A nocturnal olfactory phantasm,

Your scent memory the pillowsham

Causing me to turn over,

Always expecting you to be lying there.

As the dawn peers through your shade

I feel you slip from my arms…

As I untangle the wrinkled mess you made

Of the sheets… the blanket once more

Pulled too far to the other side.

In the morning dew on my window pain

Your tears course silently down,

Outlining the shape of your face

As they roll from the top of the glass

To the depths of my wounded heart.

My lost love wanders the moors

Of my bogged soul,

Entering with the wispy fog,

Exiting with the morning sun,

Only to return riding moonbeams.

And so here I remain,

In my haunted manse,

Accompanied by your comforting shade

Listening to your love song

As the newly hatched fledglings

Tweet your messages

From beyond.