Empty Shell

Nearly a year now since you've moved

Out to east Texas near Jasper and I

Watch over your house next door to mine.


It's empty, so utterly empty. All your goods

And furniture are still there and

The mail even arrives daily, but you're not.


No more laughter or music or the sounds

Of children in your yard. No more of the

Spirit or soul left, just an empty shell.


You paid your property taxes but not your bills,

So without gas, water, or light, the shell

Is now empty and dark.


I go over and open the windows every now

And then to let out some of the emptiness

And I cut the grass and park my truck there.


At least it looks like some one still lives there.

Sometimes I just go over and sit inside remembering.

I sit in the empty shell and I miss you.