The pickup sits waiting in the drive. <br />The well-kept house next door is silent. <br />The husband has come back to collect <br />A few of his favorite things before <br />Moving in with a new girlfriend. <br /> <br />No noise whatever comes from inside. <br />What the woman must feel, watching <br />Her spouse of years casually box items <br />He wants for a new life without her. <br />Could a castaway feel more marooned? <br /> <br />The day is warm and sunny. Birds flit, <br />Insects drone, and the dogs she walks <br />Wander aimlessly around the yard. <br />The postman has letters for them both, <br />No change of address yet on file. <br /> <br />A quiet street like ours can match <br />The chaos of a sudden shipwreck <br />In its abrupt and callous destruction <br />Of point and purpose in our lives. <br />And our street has other quiet houses.<br /><br />Chuck Toll<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-rocks-7/
