Laughter, silenced

Runs his hand over flaking paint,

yellow chips breaking from the sill,

adhering to his fingers, dried

edges slightly jabbing

old house, left alone: dust,

accumulated debris of absence,

wallpaper curling to escape

confinement, empty rooms

her room, twelve by twelve box,

window panes broken, fractured.

Still hears her laughter,

silenced.

              -- from The White Cliff Poems

This poem is submitted to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.

Photograph by George Hodan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.