I want to see the light that fills your room.
In my solitary torments I have imagined it,
pictured its quiet shadows
and the spaces made of your fragrant dust.
When you go away,
surely the sounds you leave behind stay beating,
resounding with the colours of your voice, your laughter.
The corners of cupboards, the slump of your bed sheets,
these are things that store you and hold you.
In the emptiness your absence swirls like the air in a glass vase,
your moments lie in crumpled up papers scattered in the silence.
I want to touch the awareness of the walls,
to know, like they do, when you are there and when you are not,
and to hear your clock counting as if it lay on a seabed, alone and timeless.
And your curtains, swirling and gaping with mouthfuls of wind,
mimicking the hush of your nakedness in the morning sun.
Nobody will ever know where your room goes when you are not in it,
but I have known and loved where you go when your room is not with you
Oliver Roberts
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-you-leave-your-room/
