Since Catherine left
He wanders around the big old house
He sees the chair she used to sit in
The clothes she used to wear
Silence is like water
And he is drowning
But she echoes in his memory
And warms his heart with her life
Her hair is but a pile of fibers
But the sun shows the handiwork
Of an artist
How he wishes he could run his fingers
Through thousands of these
To pick up after her
When she is too tired
To pick up after herself
What did she think of him
When he didn't want to listen?
Catherine went on loving
And he loved her even more
When last she breathed into his chest
As he hugged her on that night
Her lips moved to familiar words
But she was too weak to give them life
Did she ever stop?
Did he give her a reason to?
Her head of red hair
Still soft as the day they met
Her skin still softer
And he shook at this last time
As he did when he first touched her
The little feet, with the little toes
And her blue cheeks
Once red as a rose
Her eyes still looked at him
Still stared
Then Catherine was no longer there
She was part of the past
And the tired old man wished he'd gone with her
But the cold, big house would creek
And the dirty windows still looked to the world
Catherine was in all these things
And she held him in her arms
And while he looked at where she'd been
She held him up and loved him


December 16, 10:15 pm
Copyright �1999 Michael Paul