#57 WHEN
#57 WHEN
(Americana)
Started marking the calendar,
Mark each day I notice something weird.
Sitting in my quiet kitchen,
Counted the marks, worse than I feared.
Right knee bounces, left hand itches,
Time for action, writing down clues.
Read the list, chew end of my pen,
Where to start? Too many to choose.
Silent house feels wrong,
Pictures don't belong.
Closets are less full.
Floor vent whistles. Then…
When does this end? When?
Long days of investigation,
And many nights of short sleeping.
Sketch the problem -- break my pencils,
Dark glasses to hide my weeping.
Walk in circles, talk out options,
Allergies? Maybe the weather?
Draw stares at work, me in same clothes,
Barely keeping things together.
Empty house feels wrong,
Dead plants don't belong.
Half-finished jigsaw.
Open last box of pens,
When does this end? When?
Worn down by running blind,
Gather whole life in my mind.
Close my eyes and just stare…
You’re not there!
Struck numb by your absence,
Hang my head in silence.
Since you've been missing,
Wrong is... everything.
Close my eyes, see you.
Who can tell me then,
When does this end? When?
My life is frantic,
But you made calm stick.
You smiled, I exhaled.
Can you tell me then,
When does this end? When?
Grab my phone when I know the words to send.
Text you "Please meet me. Please -- let's start again."
Three dots...
Waiting...
At last your answer:
"When?"