The sheets stripped lays the

bed bare like a lover's harsh

laugh as the door slams 

You, forgotten and 

forlorn, found at the back of 

the closet, crumpled 

The summer sounds of 

children playing, song birds, and

ice cream trucks are here 

Wistful not for a 

fistful of cash but a dream

delayed by the fates 

A murder of crows 

harassed the eagle as it 

attempted to soar

Listen hard and the

joyful echoes of eons 

past may whisper 'yes' 

Absence can become 

an abscess as the bloody

sun decamps again