Waiting Forever

A rocking chair creaks in the corner.

It was left abandoned years before.

While at the stove sits a silent mourner,

A ceramic tea pot now empty décor.

One bent fork lies atop the table

Placed beside a rusted blade

Which is unclean, unused, and unable

To cut through a slice of bread.

Alone amid the cold serenity,

Dust motes dance in the air,

the sole interruption of sterility.

In a frame on the wall lives a woman fair,

her color faded, but smile lively.

Her gaze remains frozen in time

   Her eyes crying a sad goodbye

Toward the poor victim of crime.

Beside the creaking rocking chair

Sleeping soundly for years on the floor

Lay the old man of the woman fair

Fated to breathe no more