House Sounds

He was left with creaking floors
in the night
and the shifting sound of an oil heater
Sometimes he could imagine
she was still walking
across the rugs
or hanging her robe on the brass hook at bed time
But only the voices of wind chimes
on the porch spoke to his loneliness
The melancholy tones reminding
that half of him had been ripped away

Years later, he chose to survive
and began to collect new sounds
Small, quiet notes at first
A new friend
The song of a shared laugh
Somehow, bit by bit
an orchestra emerged
Loud and discordant at times
But boldly alive

When I visit him now
the rooms are full of clocks ticking
Busy voices
mingling with a dripping faucet
or the heater clicking on
But having been away
so long
I feel the emptiness
and racing in my heart
whenever those foreboding chimes
are blown in motion
Occasionally, they sound like her
or angels hearing all my thoughts