Gone

Image by Karen Smits from Pixabay

Keening high,
inside the walls,
gone and mourned,
never there,
just a dream or
glimpse of might have been,
if not for,
if not for,
if not for.

Emptiness sounds like tunnels,
stretching to the dark holes of the night,
where he was,
where she remembered him,
warmth seeped away
into the chill of wind
scouring the inside of a heart
left.

Another day,
dawn,
high noon
and falling dark,
another night
stretching out,
missing,
vanished,
was it there?
was it lost?
was all of it
a dream?