The house is saturated with her scent,
In he walked, like his feet were in cement.
It's a shame, she's been gone less than a day,
He wonders if he should kneel down and pray.

He closed the door and forgot what to do,
Maybe take off his suit for it was new.
The air became heavy and wet with tears,
He went to the kitchen, retrieved a beer.

Emptiness throbs in his heart like a stone,
He put his face inside his hands and groaned.
Her smell and the awful odor of death,
Combined with each other and took his breath.

The essence of her will soon fade away,
Except in his heart which has turned to clay.
The old house will never be like it was,
It has lost its soul, its on houseapause.

He knows she is gone and will not come back,
That will make this home nothing but a shack.
How can a man live thru such awful pain,
And go about his life and not complain?

Back to the fridge, another beer, sat down,
This time he brought back a bottle of Crown.
His wife walked in and said, "You're in a fog,
"Yes you loved her, but she was just a dog."

©March 25, 2018 / Jerry Pat Bolton