Whispers of Loss

The screen door creaks same as always. Since you ain't here to mend

it. Another summer wind just blows right through me. Guess I ain't

gonna mend it either. And dust motes dance in the afternoon light,

just like they did that morning. Sun on the floor on your side of the

bed, but your side was cold and you were gone. They say time

heals all wounds, don't they? Lies, I tell you, just pretty lies.

It just carves them deeper, makes them ache like an old bone when the

weather turns. And the last train home, it's a-comin'. I hear its