She's not there...

(Please vote & comment on this poem)

I stare at the vacant chair next to me.
The orderly desk and photographs left.
Occasionally I glance at the door expecting her to walk in as she did.
But, she's not there...
Out of the side of my eye I steal a glance as I often did at her soft neck,
her hair that cried out for my fingers to meander through,
And I look for her slender fingers which one-day I dreamt would weave themselves around my hand.

But... She's not there.
She won't come through the door.
her desk remains tidy at the end of each day
And her chair stays empty from Monday to Monday

She's not there.
My dreams of sensual passion remain what they always have been...Dreams.

Our bodies, hearts and souls will never be as one.
No wheat fields will be laid low by our love.
My lips will never caress her warm tender body.
We will never share mutual passion that I assumed destiny had intended for us.
No.
She's not there.

Love lost.
Romance lies dormant in her heart.
Another has the opportunity to awaken my Sleeping Beauty, My Lovely One.

So be it.

Not Goodbye.
Rather Adieu.

x