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