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
But this puzzling void
Pregnant with the possibility
That the designer of these rooms
Inside this labyrinth
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 unknown cul-de-sac
Only to think that he is now behind me
But when I turn to face him
There is no-one there
His elusive presence troubles me
As I seek without success
For whilst it may appear
That our paths must have crossed
At some time upon my search
His elusive presence troubles me
As I seek without success
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
That 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 2012
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