The phone no longer rings.
The mailbox is empty.
I wait for anything,
A word, a knock,
A friendly familiar sound.
But all I hear are ghosts
Words whispered long ago
Echoes of yesterday
Vestiges of soaring spirits
Grounded by broken wings.
I turn around with hopeful eyes
To see a smile, a tender glance.
But my visions are clouded over
By copious tears of reality.
She's gone.
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