Something is missing

There in the gloom.

You’re patting your pockets,

Searching your room.

You’ve counted the children,

Called each by name.

Whistled the dog, and

Checked if he’s lame.

You’ve unpacked the shopping,

Put it away.

Binned all the rubbish.

And called it a day.

But there, in the darkness,

Unable to sleep.

Unable to rest and

Unable to weep.

A sense of loss fills you.

Goes on and goes on,

For something is missing.

Something is gone.

© Copyright H. St.V. Beechey Nov.2000