Gone
The tap is not dripping.
I check the windows and leave.
The doors are all locked.
I sit on the bus and wait for a thought.
Nothing comes.
The tap is not dripping.
I look out at the muddy fields
and write a note to myself.
The doors are all locked.
I take out your photo, the faded one,
and try to remember your voice.
The tap is not dripping.
The doors are all locked.
Jane Pearn’s poetry and short stories have appeared in several online and print magazines, and she has two published poetry collections. She lives in Selkirk, in the Scottish Borders.