Already Gone

I wake to late afternoon sun; there should be moonlight.
Outside, the air is still and warm but the leaves have turned gold.
As in a dream I walk around - looking at things, touching things,
and gradually, I come to know that I’m not really here.
The house feels empty and silent.

The things that I love and use, are all here.
The chairs, the table, the lamps, the incomplete tapestry in the corner.
All stand as though waiting for me to pick them up.
Everything looks exactly the same, but everything feels different.
There is a smell of age, of dust, of sadness.

Slowly I wander, remembering the springs and summers of my time.
Somebody still lives here; I feel the emptiness in him as well.
And yet there is peace here. It emanates from everywhere and makes me smile.
I wonder if he smiles any more.
Does he remember what it was like when I was here?

All is as if I am still here.
But I am already gone.

Brittany Kingston
© Monday, January 30, 2006