The Death of My Companion

The walls feel the missing vibration
of sound blasts from the TV.
Each time the garage door opens the dog
runs out to find you.
My ears are filled with the silence of the
air lacking the hum of your oxygen concentrator.
Your sleeping room stands still awaiting your snoring.
A place at the table remains vacant and
bare, wondering where you are.
My mind drives on each day without you
completing one's existance.
My heart presses on trying to ease the pain
of your loss.

Helena Parry

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