Your friends don’t call here anymore
I remember when they’d work on their cars in the driveway.
They’d call and leave messages
Or stop by to see if you were home yet.
I got to know them, Jeff, Bill, Carl, Ron, Tony
And the girls too, Stephanie, Lisa, Holly, Enid, Gail
The girls would call and be shy on the phone
Our house was the house that could feed lots of kids on short notice
Ours would be the place for good movies
There would be kids on the floor, draped over the sofa, looking in the fridge
There was always action – always a buzz.
Your spirit drew those kids in like a bright beacon.
Now the house is quiet.
The phone doesn’t ring at all these days
I don’t have to stock the fridge
No one calls or comes over
It’s not that they don’t care,
They don’t want to upset me
They think they remind me of your death
When your light went out, so did a part of theirs.
I am left sitting in the dark and quiet house
In the early hours of the morning
Missing your noise
Missing the energy you gave
Missing the warmth of your smile
But hoping that I can still feel close to you
In the sighting of the next red-tailed hawk
Flying high in the clouds