You wait nervously
for that light to blink on your phone,
For that doorbell to ring
While you sit in the marmalade light of your bedroom
The eerie silence of an empty house,
Shafts of light stream through the lilac curtains
drawn back just enough
to throw sun beams
Across the cold white tiled floor;
You watch dust dance in the light,
Specks spiralling and twirling around each other
In an ascending embrace,
Nothing happens,
No one rings.
The howling dogs across the railway tracks
Their daily cacophony:
Only momentarily silenced
By the echoes of expectations
Tumbling down an empty stairwell,
The silence of solitude is deafening now,
You crave warmth;
An embrace,
Some kind words
An affectionate gaze-
Anything tinted with the faintest trace
Of understanding.

By Joanna Kahumbu