His Return
The knitting has been left on the coffee table
untouched for months
the yarn gathering dust
Books half read
the corners of pages turned down
keeping her place
Paralysis
the constant chatter of a mind
Scattered thoughts that fight with each other
vying for attention
The shades are drawn
flowers withered in window boxes
a world untended
overgrown with weeds
The children have left the doors opened
leaving the night to creep through the cracks
staring into the silent darkness
unmoving for hours at a time
Graying hair hanging limp and unwashed
the mail left unopened
haphazardly strewn on the kitchen counter
She can't remember the last time she closed her eyes
or stepped into the sunlight
His clothes still hang in the closet
the bed neatly made
waiting for him to return
Angela Minard 2012©
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