Monday, September 21, 2009
Come Home
Come Home
The house is so quiet without you.
My hand wanders over in the night
and caresses your pillow.
It smells like you.
The dog misses you too.
He continually wanders to the door,
checking for you.
He won’t eat.
I made dinner last night.
I cooked too much and now
have leftovers for a week.
I hate eating alone.
Come home safely.
I can’t imagine
the rest of my life without you.
I want you back.
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6 comments:
Monica...this is begging to be set to music...reminds of the lyrics of Jewel. Very nice.
Dan
Thanks, Dan. Your comments always boost my ego.
I'll let you in on a little secret Ms. Manning. My husband has not slept (as in sleep, not as in sex) with me in probably five years. Says he is more comfortable on the couch where he is rooted down in the pillows and cannot toss and turn. Even in our togetherness, I am alone...
Big bed, little comfort.
The next time you tell me you have writer's block I won't listen. This is beautiful and I can really feel the loneliness and empty feeling in your poem.
Btw, love the profile pic. Are you Crazy Mo? Those Voices in My Head? Is that you???
It's me!
YAY! Simply gorgeous dahling.
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