Those words reserved for further days
which never would arrive in time
reiterate with speechless grief
in rooms where silence says enough
among two empty chairs and dust
a vacant vase bouquets adorned
the corner lamps unlit since March
unopened tomes on warping shelves
where photos fade by curtain light
and shadows blather through the night
of those no longer seated here
their raucous laughter nowhere near
that absent scent of cinnamon
in this defective denouement
where dialogue comes by a clock
metallic clacking of a lock
sometimes a rare soliloquy
as wind slips through invisibly
to stir a certain manuscript
unfinished so then never gripped
now emblematic in a way
of all the things I meant to say.

Unsaid © Copyright 2021, Robert J. Tiess.

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Unspoken Words prompt challenge - link: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2748319-Unspoken-Words

My mother, Jeannette, who passed away very recently, never got to read most of my poems from the last year or so.  I had hoped to print them out and present them to her as a gift one day.

I am grateful to have been able to read a very few of them aloud to her in recent months, but it will always be a point of much sadness that these "unsaid" things (much like the manuscript mentioned by the speaker of the poem) will not be attended by her eyes and smiles.

She was my best friend and an honest reader, always a fan yet ever ready to be truthful, critical in the scholarly sense, and encouraging with her brilliant insights.  I will miss that forever.
Submitted: April 25, 2020

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