The Wind

The Wind

The Wind clutches drunkenly,
At the carefree, petulant trees,
Charcoal skies loom over the canal,
Green water, chequered with small waves.

The chair sits empty on the veranda,
I exhale slowly, feeling again,
The lack of you in the chair,
Empty silence fills the alien room,
A tomorrow I had never planned.

From afar, a voice calls out,
Searching for a lost dog?
The wind roars  again, unperturbed,
The chair sits empty on the veranda,
I take another breath.