This house <br />once filled by <br />a family of seven <br />has become a tomb <br />for one. <br /> <br />If they return <br />things will be different. <br />If he finds them <br />he will be the husband <br />and father <br />they need. <br /> <br />Taking another chug <br />from the bottle of whiskey <br />his world becomes <br />a little darker, <br />a little warmer. <br />He knows <br />what he needs to do... <br />but how to do it? <br /> <br />He takes another bulb <br />from it's snowman covered box <br />and gives it a good toss <br />straight up <br />suspending it in mid-air <br />for as long as possible <br />before it hits <br />the cold cement floor <br />with a hypnotizing ''POP''. <br /> <br />Watching the tiny fragments <br />scatter across the floor <br />he sees himself <br />alone again <br />and thanks God <br />that they left the Christmas decorations... <br />his only way to <br />break the silence. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Dedicated to my dad.<br /><br />Mary Nagy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/breaking-the-silence-3/
