the house is silent
no clocks no cars
no animals no trains
silent as the grave
where he lies under
nine feet of that earth
he loved so much
it is so silent I am
hardly here fading image
of the woman I once was
I could disappear
silently unobtrusively
out of character
no one would see me go
the sound of a wineglass
picked up and set down
a slight creak of the table
as the pen moves across the page
when the pen stops
silence
am I not there?