Our Quiet House

This is a poem I wrote for my daughter Vickies birthday the year after Cancer took her.

Our Quiet House

In our quiet house there’s an empty chair,
If I stare hard enough I can see you there,
I saw you yesterday – honest – I swear!
you sat there brushing your long blonde hair.

In our quiet house there’s an empty room,
just Mickey Mouse balloons brighten the gloom.
Your dressing table holds unused perfume,
as though you were away and life will resume.

In our quiet house there’s an empty bed,
a sacred place where you once laid your head,
covered by your own special bedspread;
now Mickey Mouse pillows lay there instead.

In our quiet house two hearts are broken,
and from early morning when we are woken,
every living moment your name is spoken,
By your Mum and Dad, who’s hearts are broken.

In our quiet house my thoughts often stray;
I stare at the front door – in the hallway,
I clasp my hands and in vain I pray…
to hold you once more on your birthday.