Speak to me one more time My love .... by Jude kyrie

How silent the house is
not that Ben was noisy.
No never noisy he was so
Gentle and kind always
yet his presence filled the house.
She would always feel him
with her or waiting for her.

They were the invisible people
no pomp or circumstance
well grounded and conservative
but so happy so very happy. she thought.

The other day she collected
his things together for the goodwill
Everything except his old sweater
the one she had knitted for him
A quarter of a century ago.
The one he wore every night
it slept with her at night by her pillow.
If you buried your face in it
his scent still lived there.

And his study was left untouched
his beloved Pipe still sitting in its rack
Awaiting him to fill it
with aromatic tobacco from Holland.

She reached for the telephone
and dialed her own number
it buzzed the busy signal
like she heard a thousand times,
His voice answered,it was her Ben

Better than pictures
or faded letters
or old sweaters
It  was soft
reassuring and kind
she ached for him
as every timbre of his voice
spoke the message.

It said if you would like to leave a message
we will get back to you as soon as possible.
Speak after the tone.