When does a word lose its meaning

When a wall isn’t just for leaning

But blocking out what we won’t hear,

Songs remind that you’re not near

A home isn’t just walls, windows, and doors to open

Not a roof or redolent frames would i hope in

It’s you that makes it worth coming back

Being “ours” lessens the load of the sad and meager lack

What use is the pen in capturing that yearning, ephemeral vapor

If fear and shame restrain the hand from the paper

Yet with ink spilled and page filled no reply awaits me

To once again here thy voice is my last plea

But every knock ensures I don’t forget the door I’ve closed

Regretting the plans and longings i never proposed

You’re gone and lost with all you could ask for

Whilst I can only sit and pine over those days of yore