THE SILENT HOUSE

I unlock the door and enter, the central heating is on
and the house is warm but the silence has set in, like Rigor Mortis

I go from room to room, endeavouring to give it the kiss of life
but my breath is not enough.

There are no lights left burning,
no washing up in the sink,
no boots for me to trip over.

There’ll be no interruptions; I can do as I like,.
yet I can’t settle to anything.

I invite the radio and television voices into the house
but they are self-sufficient, They don’t need a hot meal; a loan to get them through to pay-day.

They don’t envelop me in a loving hug
Or offer to make me a cup of tea, when I’m tired.
My world has moved outside these four walls;
The last one has left home.

© Marion Sharville

About Marion Sharville

A website of Poems and Short stories
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