I walk by your room with your painting on the wall.

It doesn't hang crooked any more.

The bed is all made up,

sheets tightly tucked in.

I could bounce a quarter off of it. 

The clothes on the floor have been picked up,

the dust balls are gone.

In fact, it's freshly swept, mopped;

very immaculate and shiny.

The pens on your desk have been neatly put away 

  in the top drawer where they belong,

and that salt lamp on your dresser can finally be seen,

no longer buried beneath a stack of shirts.

It's really quite pretty.

It's also quiet now, very quiet,

no more noises to wake me up,

all those sound effects and crashes from the movies you'd watch,

not to mention, Judge Judy on YouTube at one in the morning.

Yes, your room is all in order for once, clean and sterile.

I keep that over-sized picture of you next to the window.

You know the one that I took when you just started photography.

I look at it every time I walk by your room, 

your empty room.

Submitted: September 27, 2021

© Copyright 2023 Lake Rivers. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:



Very emotional. I see it as a mother missing her son who has left to a metro because of his job. One will never know how his / her parents felt until he / she become a parent. Thank you for sharing.

Mon, September 27th, 2021 1:26pm

Steven P. Pody

Well, your poem certainly brings a rush of thoughts to mind. I've got 3 empty rooms... Evoking a reader's emotion is a sure sign you've written true and deep. Good job! SPP

Mon, September 27th, 2021 6:09pm

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