Left Behind

This space is cold.

These empty walls offer no reflection,

no tears of joy, or trials of anguish.

These halls are sparse and flat,

deprived of the roaring laughter that once filled their seams.

These sprawling floors are weak and lonely,

longing for footsteps that have lost their way.

The air outside is void of life,

soothing sounds and scents alike have vanished in a gentle breeze.

The solace that we once assumed,

replaced by hollow vanities,

Dreaming is dangerous.

© John Parsell 2020