Leaves the door ajar for you.
Leaves the window open for you.
She sticks to her den.
The living room remains unlived in without you
The sofa empty and the TV collects only dust.
She reads and writes,
recalls memories of you.
Sifts through albums
and swipes through her photo gallery.
She listens out for you
at the break of dawn,
In the middle of the night.
She leaves her top lock open for you.
copyright Stewart Tunnicliff 2016