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

Another’s beginning.

 

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.

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