The End?

Tabsy's picture

When I stare at a mirror in an empty room,
I see her staring back at me.
When I sit alone with only a piano as my companion,
I hear him playing back to me.
When I slave over a stove cooking a meal for one,
I feel her teaching, guiding me.
When I reherse my soliloquy on my private stage,
I hear her speaking, advising me.

And when I write this to myself,
I realise I can't do it.

Because when I read this to myself,
We cry.