©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson
image by tasha
Your room still holds the scent of you;
sometimes, I venture in.
One step across the threshold, and
the memories begin.
I see you lying on the bed
or sitting in the chair.
How many times did I pass by
and find you resting there?
The walls and shelves guard high school joys
and college dreams and more.
I never know if smiles or tears
await me at your door.
But either way, I walk inside;
my heart just can’t resist.
For when I do, I’m telling you
how very much you’re missed.
I feel you most inside that room,
rich shades of grief and bliss.
“They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.”
Find more of my poems about death, loss and grieving here.