When you were here under my feet,
I wished for silence.
I compulsed about little things,
getting riled up.
Now the silence - the silence
is killing me.
The wish for you to be here with your noise
is heavy on my heart.
Gladly, I'd have you back,
once again, to hear...
the noise, the fighting, the love
exuding from your loudest voices.
I miss looking over your
sleeping bodies, just checking,
to see if you still breathe
or to pull the covers over you once again.

Linda Cervantes-Rose
Copyright 2001