“The Saddest Thing”

Poet

 

 

 

 

 

To go home and not find his windows lit.
(To realize that he is not here tonight.)
To go home and to find his room empty.
(To realize that he won’t be here tomorrow.)
To go home and not see his frame in the driveway
and hear him greet us with his first question,
“Have you brought some food?”
(To realize that he won’t be back next week,
or next month, or maybe even next year.)
That is the saddest thing of all.

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