Fifty One Days

Fifty one days since this ear has heard the sweet words I love you.

There are no lips in which to kiss, no hand to hold, only silence on shades of blue.

I love you…I love you so much I hear myself to the empty room say.

Silence returns my call as I muddle yet through another lonesome day.

To some they are just words set forth in some mechanical song.

Yet for me and their absence drives the ever present sorrow home.

For when you died on that fateful day I buried much more than you.

I buried with you our dreams that once traced the moonlit sky…

I buried also the solitary reasons that I should survive.

No one knows unless they have themselves placed their true love in the ground.

No one knows the desperate hurt or the haunting cry which keeps the soul bound.

Fifty one days, and the hours tick away… soon to be fifty two.

I guess this is to be my providence for being so in love with you.

J. Allen Wilson © 10/28/08