there is no other place to go <br />after work <br />when the darkness of the night <br />starts to hover <br />on my roof <br />this house where i rest my feet <br />where i put my hands <br />where i shut my mouth <br />and you are there <br />moving from one corner to another <br />asking where i put some bones <br />of my body <br />you sing as you once knew the songs <br />the ones that i love <br />that which from where my heart rests <br />and lulled <br /> <br />this is the house, a mere house <br />where i put my body <br />safely <br />no longer a home <br />my soul like a little bird had flown somewhere <br />years ago <br />i know where it is sleeping <br />you ask me <br />but i will not tell you <br /> <br />how will you ever know? <br />the place <br />it is so quiet <br />you are restless and noisy and messy <br />so loveless <br />so sad and you keep on laughing taunting <br />about my loss <br />my death<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-house-21/
