The grass was a light summer-green,
and the front gate was open,
white picket fence, shrubbery,
a swing, and a tall stout tree.
The open door waited for him each day.
He’d return home, promptly place his coat on the sofa,
and walk through the house to the backyard
to play with the rabbits.
On days when I was lucky, I’d be planted with a wet kiss.
On others, just the coat on the sofa…
and my time divided with the rabbits.
The front door always remained open,
I never once shut it.
And that is why, I didn’t realize the moment he left.
The door is now shut, the rabbits are there no more.
and the sofa devoid of the coat;
I tucked it away in the cupboard.
Just yesterday I realized
the backdoor has been open all throughout too…