Black and White

Image by Doris Rudd

Black and White

When the wind whistles through

the limbs of the old maple tree,

and the December rain turns to snow

the world seems colder

And as the sky turns gray

the clouds pass over thick,

covering our home with its shadow

the world feels lonelier

a photograph,

without color,

feels the same

since you’ve been gone.

Morning

The light peeks between the slats of the blind

creating today’s first shadow upon our sleepless bed.

It’s early, my mind already ahead of the clock

poising to scream us awake at any minute.

And the room is filled with the aroma of fresh coffee,

brewing in our small but cozy kitchen.

It stirs me to walk across the floor, cold with January’s breath

to drink its vitality I so need.

And it’s just then, when I am ready to slip out of bed

I realize that it’s you darling, laying next to me - I crave more.

Black Hole

Black Hole

Filling with the emptiness
of your sudden withdraw,
not fully understanding the import
of the deafening silence.

Attempting to rationalize
why some people disappear,
while others simply fade,
leaving the consistent void.

Letters cannot replace your voice
or pictures that peaceful look,
knowing all that is tangible
eventually returns to dust.

I would read your poems
under the light of the moon,
reflecting rhymes off the shimmer
only to enlighten my sadness.

Into the darkness each tear fell
as you bled out your thoughts,
composing a serenade so sweet
it echoes even tonight.

Suddenly it all disappeared
into an invisible black hole,
emptying all we had together
absorbed into the heavens above.

Dreaming on occasion
how we once were,
only to awaken suddenly
believing you will return someday.