What makes this absence?
by poetrydiary
What makes this absence in the air?
Is it that empty bathroom shelf
and unmade bed?
Or this abandoned bookcase, still bent
from vanished books?
A placemat less; one fewer pair of shoes
beside the door. No small pink coat
or unexpected cuddly toy;
unopened mail and midnight showers.
Less background noise, less easy warmth;
no arguments about PCs
nor endless distance calls.
A gap in every conversation –
questions unasked and jokes uncracked.
Plans unmade (or worse – unshared,
unknown, unasked).
No singing in the hall; no mock-hurt
stares; no tellings off; no call for lifts –
an excess too of time and space –
now all for what,
without those unassuming smiles and hugs?
A final emptying of need, that
like a summer out of time
faded slowly to this point:
a smiling figure at the gate,
anticipating rites of spring;
half-turning, with her bag,
she waves.
**************
My daughter announced she was leaving home last weekend, and off she went.
Posted on d’Verse Open Link night.
poetry diary 
Beautiful
You’ve captured the empty feeling of the nest, the ache when they go…as they need to.
I liked these lines: “an excess too of time and space –
now all for what,” It can be hard when children leave.
I have no children, but I have reached an age when this happens to all my friends… and it seems a brutal change… yet I know that you will always leave a spare room ready.
In this day and age they seem to return frequently. But flying away is part of growing up and required.
I can relate…they do grow up so fast don’t they ~ The silence is almost too much to bear…until grandchildren comes along ~ Good one Matthew ~
Poignant and heartfelt. The quiet you long for is suddenly too, too quiet. Been there, and I share the feeling.
So very well done…I love this because it speaks of that emptiness so well of the literal space and the one in the heart too.
Gayle
A final emptying of need, that
like a summer out of time
faded slowly to this point:
a smiling figure at the gate,
anticipating rites of spring;
half-turning, with her bag,
she waves.
Beautifully poignant!