All is silent
but for distant memories
ringing like echoes in a slight wind.
The sound of her laugh,
the smell of her skin,
the taste of her mouth,
remembered. Reminders
of times past, of days ended,
when life was full of nascent possibility.
Here lies a hole,
a chasm.
A man in its center breathes
softly
slowly
wondering
pondering
Is the empty space in his heart because
what was once there is gone,
or what belongs there has yet to be?
Conundrum 