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Monday 29 August 2016

Empty House

Empty House

I may have been mistaken
When I heard another door
At the far side of this room quietly closing
At the very second I entered
Leaving someone else’s breath
A feeling of their presence
Within the empty space

Yet there is nothing here
Except this puzzling void
Pregnant with the possibility
That the designer of these rooms
Is inside this labyrinth
And may still be here walking somewhere
Just beyond where I can see

The next door is locked
The handle rattling in my hand
And I must retrace my weary steps
Back from an unexpected cul-de-sac
Only to think that he is now behind me
Yet when I turn to face him
There is no-one there

His elusive presence troubles me
As I seek him out without success
For whilst it may appear
That our paths must have crossed
At some time upon my search
I cannot find any clear sign
That he was ever really here

At times I believe that I am quite alone
Inside this deserted edifice
Yet then I hear faint sounds
Just beyond where I am standing
Which defy all definition

I worry at this illusion in my mind
The elaborate trickery
Or circularity of perception
Turning round upon itself
Allowing me to almost see
Myself disappearing


Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

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