the spirits

i have an empty bed full up with you
scents ghost me with the hours you've gone
my sleep is thrashed abusive
this awful quiet casts its haunt around me
and i dread the night and day equally

through the glimmer in my eyes
i see you still, sitting in that tattered chair
laughing at my poor missteps
listening to the moon rise from our garden
and i have a soul full up with you
the marvel of a life built by an ordinary man
constructed with a hope come unexpected

and so i sit before the window
watching shadows stretch into the dark
the spirits are no longer fearsome
i make them welcome, as i must
we sit and make our idle gossips
for they come to ease this sweet despair
and relate the marvels that are waiting

then we bring the photos hidden
in a chest beneath the stairs
and i fall in love again
and can finally hear
the end of days