The Absent Room

Silent, nameless room
Doused in bright white
Winter-morning light and
The tingling sense of something
The furniture reeks of absence
The walls bare and blank like
Minds losing memories
One vivid photo
Slipping away into invisible ash
At a time
Ghostly echoes of voices and laughter
Whistle through this room
Like a gentle, stirring breeze
It sings out the name of the
Forgotten one
Who will haunt this place
For all of eternity
With fragments of stolen joy and
Shattered memory
Who can say
What is lost?

-Megan M. Phillips


4 thoughts on “The Absent Room

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