Why I Live Alone

a final revision

I live alone in a big house

With Erin’s cat, Mr. P.

When she died, two years ago,

He was an ornery fourteen.

I drive out to the cemetery

A few times a month now,

Sit on the ground by Erin’s stone.

I tell Erin I love her.

She knows, but likes hearing

Me say it.  I tell her I love her

Every day, all day long.

She rolls her eyes, is gone.

© slovitt 2020
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critique and comments welcome.
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Real, sensitive poetry, that easily induces strong feelings of empathy, and pain of loss in the reader and that because of its simple honesty, because it needed to be told in a way the recipient would easily recognise. Very moving.


I’m almost lost for words! Your preciseness is brilliant, and although I felt your pain and loss, it was nevertheless enriching to read.

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