There comes a soft sadness with
Summer Sunday evenings.
A time of day that remains empty unless full,
Lonely unless shared.
One week’s ending is
Just as his absence is just another ending
And his staying away just another beginning.
My lonely heart aches and
Forgotten tears fall in silence as
My memories of him are left to collect dust in the corner,
Their silence speaking volumes.
No one else cares,
No one else remembers, and still,
The soft summer sadness of Sunday afternoon silence
Continues without end.