Where Your Absence Lives
A Villanelle of Longing

Each night the stars return, but not your face,
The silence pools where laughter used to be.
I wander hallways time cannot erase.
The moonlight spills its yearning through this space,
A hush of longing will not set me free.
Each night the stars return, but not your face.
I touch your books, your pillow, the empty vase,
Their shadows hold a stubborn memory.
I wander hallways time cannot erase.
Old songs drift in then vanish without a trace,
Yet every refrain stirs the loss in me.
Each night the stars return, but not your face.
I set the table, keep your favorite place,
Pretend the door might open quietly.
I wander hallways time cannot erase.
There is no dawn when longing leaves no trace,
No morning bright enough for me to see.
Each night the stars return, but not your face.
I wander hallways time cannot erase.
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Tim is an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. He writes about rural life, family, and the places he grew up around. His poetry and essays have appeared in Bloodroot and Coal Dust, his latest book.




Comments (5)
Poignantly expressed and exquisitely crafted! I'm not a fan of villanelles, but this is extraordinary, Tim.
Stunning work Tim! So hauntingly beautiful my friend!
Your imagery carries the weight of longing with such grace, it lingers long after reading.
Heartbreak is right. The refrains carry the power needed to make this work. I actually groaned when I read "I set the table, keep your favorite place..." Great job filling this restrictive form full of emotion.
Lovely villanelle