A porch lamp flickers where the dust,
remembers the names once whispered.
Boot soles converse with gravel, mud—
each step rehearsed, like a force of habit.
Curtains sway like an aging witnesses,
their design perfumed in resignation.
A kettle clicks its minor requiem,
for the hunger that precedes reunion.
A coat is placed on an old chair, burnished,
with years of faithful timber's patience.
Floorboard creak in the presence of warmth,
negotiating the chill from tired bones.
Two porcelain cups await the tremor;
the clock concedes in a still moment,
loosening its strict arithmetic just for once,
in loving affection for company.
Morse announces a sovereign's return;
wallpaper hangs like a devoted maid,
beneath layers of unspoken gratitude,
as daylight retires uncounted.
His reflection lingers on window glass—
transparent, ordinary, irreplaceable.
And somewhere beyond those walls,
her life starts to fade into ambiguity.