The Open Window
There is a sense of disbelief:
The window is wide open,
Your things are in disarray;
Drawers are open,
Turned out on the floor.
Intimate items scattered.
Someone has been here, in your room,
Past your defences.
And valuables are missing.
Money, money is nothing.
Memories, how do you replace memories?
Pawned for $20 in a bar somewhere.
Days weeks months later you go looking for something —
And can’t find it. Is it just lost? Or was it stolen?
You will never fully realise everything that you have lost.
Death is like that,
Like being burgled.
You never fully realise everything that you have lost.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2012
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