The White Vase

The White Vase

Walking home one day

Finding that everything is where I left it

I find you, still sitting on the couch

Where you haven’t moved in 2 hours

I walk to my bedroom

Where I sit, quietly

Removing my work clothes and

Changing into something more comfortable

We sit, together at the table

Sipping that last drop of cabernet from 2007

We speak about our days, lives, futures

As I retire to my room, you stay behind

I slip under the covers, tired

Staring at the cabinet across the room

Watching the dust, slowly collect

On the white vase we bought years ago

The White Vase

By: Henrik Nordbrandt

The summer has still not gone

And you are still not gone

And I am still not gone

And the door is closed

And the afternoon sun warms the window-panes

And the shadow of the birch-trees darken

The dust on the black table

With the white vase.

And the dust just lies there.