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Evening.

Moonlight hides beyond the clouds.

Soft rain drums the roof,

drips chant from eaves,

but no comfort is found in their cadence,

For there is none within

to receive the song.

Crystal bead droplets glisten

and slide across windowpanes

but no view is obscured,

For there are no eyes

to gaze outward.

Walls contain the stillness,

For there is no footfall

to echo,

No breath

to keep rhythm.

Lamplight glows golden

and warm,

but its welcome is empty,

lifeless.

Coming home

to a house

without a heartbeat.

– kerry horst –

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