Daily

Bleak fragments of light
echo through my empty house-
a House of Despondency
where the only color is an off-white
cream
and the legs on the chairs
come in threes.
My love is imbued in the floor
a saturnine stain of carpet
leading towards the bedroom ...
Although I often forget
anyone at all here stood;
the presence of my own
footfalls
drowns such thinking 
such futile hope:
tomorrow you might come back...