I reach out for the silver phone again
But you are not there
My hand is lonely in the empty air
I bring it back to my lap
I did not know I would not hear your voice again
Our conversations dead too.
I am glad I forgave you
I wanted you to let go easily
Had not thought the phone was no use to the dear dead ones
I can’t believe my mischievous boy grew old
Oh can you not come back?
My hand looks delicate like a flower
My ears feel hot
I can’t hear you any more.
You are gone
Why is it hard to believe this?
Why is loss so hard?