In That Interim

As a way of life

the hours pass.

 naturally 

like shafts of sunlight 

radiantly projected from the sky,

 silently 

like the formation of clouds

pushed ever so gently by the wind.

 . . . . .

Yet, just yesterday 

 long shadows stretched 

with such heaviness 

across the surface

of four empty walls –

inky illusions playing

silhouette against

another day passing by.

. . . . .

Out of breath, 

you stop!

 Mouth agape, 

the heart stutters

 a   n   t   i   c   i   p   a   t   i   n   g

a way of life

as the hours pass.