His room remains vacant,
and still.
Drawings stuffed in an old chest
Toys, stacked in boxes
Uncharacteristically somber and hushed.
 
In a futile attempt to deceive that this was unexpected,
I question how it has come to this -
Neglecting to draw any conclusion.
 
I rather dwell on memories - dispatched,
like a  box of old tapes and DVDs stowed away somewhere
in there
where,
His room remains vacant,
And Still.
 
I accept no slight,
nor intention.
There was no reason to anticipate that he might tarry
When for so long I knew one day I would sigh to acknowledge that,
His room remains vacant,
and still … I look in.
 
With a lingering hope, or anticipation,
That I might find him there.
lost behind liquid crystal and headphones –
I feign optimism - yet knowing,
His room remains vacant,
and still.
 
Not that the silence is unfamiliar –
It once echoed down the hall
to where I sit in my room,
trying not to notice
that;
His room remains vacant,
And still.