There is a silence,

when in that moment

we realize,

our dreams have gone,

we need now a rebuild.

There beneath the waves of grief,

enveloped in showers,

the running tears of our reality,

become a necessary ladder to less painful

memory.

I remember standing still,

watching the world begin a new chapter next door,

in my world, a tobacco stream,

silence among the books,

I just hoped we might sort through them together,

a lazy afternoon,

I came home with that visual desire,

the books had been sorted,

the room emptier than even an hour before.

I stood still and said good-bye,

I just always wondered why.