I still gaze

    into the emerging stars

    at dusk.

I used to wait

    (do I still wish?)

    for your womanly voice

    as I began my walks home.

I no longer laugh among our friends,

    but with my hands clasped,

    just wait for

    the end.

And the sight of silent birds

    with wide black wings

    is no longer unwelcome,

    nor a surprise.

My skies are filled,

    while the chair beside me

    remains bare.