This house used to be full of your noise
now full of dust
I hardly remember how you sounded
when I am getting older each day.
Why cannot our voice be kept and piled up
like the dust in our house?
You must somehow have shredded
some fragments of life beneath
the floors, or behind the corners
in this house that I see nothing
but dust in the day
only by night when the moonlight
fills in my room, and bed, and floor
your voice rises from dust in the light
and I hear how you sound once more
in my dreams that will be swept
away each time
by the morning dust.
03.01.2007, 01:54 pm, Saturday.