Thursday, February 05, 2009

Lookaround

There was her absence,
everywhere.
In the chaos of each room, cluttered with clothes
everywhere
there was her chaos, alone.
But some hope, like the curious bird
entering the room for shelter
in between the mess
just flies around, feathers shaking
to the wind
comfort shaking to the wind still blowing

In the air, traces of her love
still linger.

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