The Bookshelf In the Room

By the shelf,
She could see that there’s
no one else,
Except for her in the room,
just watching the night gloom.

The moonlight shines
through her window,
She wonders where he went,
time is running slow
and every day just seems
so mellow.
Where is the chaos?
Where are the fights?
Why is everything so quiet?
Where are the sleepless nights?

She longs to hear his voice again,
Raised high or talk slow,
feeling angry or feeling low.
She just needs to hear it
at the end of the line,
knowing that he’s still there
to make her feel happy and alive.

Maybe it’s not time yet,
maybe all she needs is
patience until he comes back.
“Let’s not push it”
she tells herself,
Every day,
same place, same time,
same view,
by the bookshelf.

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