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Coming
Home
by Velma M. Carlson
It’s
lonely to come home alone
To an empty house, so
still.
The
nites are – Oh, so very long
It has a sort of chill.
No
one here to meet me when
I unlock the door.
Always
makes me think of him
And how it was before.
We
were always together
In everything we did.
But
now that I am all alone
It’s just memories I
relive.
Sometimes
they make me happy
Then again I feel so sad.
When
it think of when he went away
And the sorrow we all had,
Life
must go on, some say to me,
And I know it’s very
true,
But
the loneliness still lingers
In everything I do.
2/18/88
A simile is as easy as pie, but a
metaphor is a piece of cake!
Poetry From the Generations - Nan's Morsels
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