Lonely, Lonely.

Lonely,
lonely.
Even the sound
of the word
is bleak

and only the ticking of the
Grandfather clock in the hall
reminds me that life goes on.

I open the window
to let in the night,
the screech of an owl
the high pitch bark of a vixen
searching for food,
the squeal of an unfortunate rabbit
caught fast in a trap.

The noise of life and death.

Yet my starved ears are hungry
and strain to devour the timbre of your voice,
the sound of your movements.

All in vain,
They will remain un-nourished.
Only inside my head
will you whisper your words of love.

Just my soft replies
and un-sated sighs
echo through
the empty rooms.

©
Copyright
VMM
2008