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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TheRecluse

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.
Goth

Griffonner

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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