I see you clearly,
whistling about the house,
happy in the mundane tasks
we shared together.
Apart now,
I reach out to hear your voice.
A sparrow rests upon my touch
as it thins through the air.
The shrill mock teases the silence
in the empty room.
Nightmare-waiting distances
the vanishing point of our separate paths.
“I love you,” remains unspoken
but…holding on.
© Marion Sharville