In your house without you here...STILL...You are so alive to me...               I forgot to turn out lights, leaving a room, returned to honor your frugility.     
 I can still see your little hand swirling, to show, electricity going around...    
as you offer a piece of apple cake with milk to chase it down.

In your house without you here...STILL...I feel you talking in the next room,
I wander into your bedroom...I can still smell your perfume.
I fluff the pillow on your bed...lay down and take your fragrance in...
feel a familiar tightening in my throat, as I feel the tears rise up again...

In your house without you here...STILL...your absence leaves a huge place.
I walk through these rooms where you lived, revisit every expression on your face,
I see the jello in the icebox with fruit that you recently made...
and I find the wax snake that you modeled as if you were playing with clay.

In your house without you here...STILL...I cook enough for you anyway.
I dont do your left over laundry...cannot let myself wash you away.
I put on Dr. Phil, so you can wash your show, then go to feed your birds...
Pick up sticks so your lawn can be mowed...

In your house without you here...STILL...I still bring flowers back in to you
and lay them at your place on the table and  whisper,"I love you" too...
I eat my tears for supper, as no appetite remains...I sit with your ghost...
look at pictures...and wonder if these clouds to go away???