by Amy Southard
I walked into the room,
The hardwood floors creaking
Beneath my feet.
I thought I was alone again,
As I gracefully stepped over
My fluffy white feline friend.
The air felt a little chilled
And there was a draft
Blowing the sheer turquoise curtains
Into a beautiful tango.
I turned to sit at the solid oak desk
The one I built with my bare hands.
But you were already there
And you were sobbing.
At first, I was afraid,
As I saw the black streaks
Tracing down the curves of your cheeks.
Every time I see you,
I am startled by your presence.
One moment I am alone,
Then suddenly you appear.
I get braver every time,
Inching closer to you,
I want to ask why the tears fall so often.
I want to know who you are.
Why are you in my house?
The house I built
With my bare hands, in 1922.
I was here first,
But I suppose I could use some company.
After all these years,
The cat isn’t much of a talker anyway.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student