Sunday, June 17, 2018

Listening To You (Day 515)

Listening, I can’t hear you 
in the other room where 
you used to read and write 
long after dark.

I can’t hear your fingers on 
the keys, the steady breath 
of words blooming like steam
on your page,

Your footsteps, your whistling
or humming odd snatches of 
songs—even your silences—
gone,

Leaving only a persistent scent 
of absence lingering on the air, 
where I spent countless hours 
listening.


(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Dedicated to Rob Bamberger, with heaps of gratitude 
for nearly 40 decades of Hot Jazz Saturday Nights

Image: MaxPixel