THE SAME GAME. | By: Terry Collett | | Category: Short Story - Lost Love Bookmark and Share


The house where once you
Lived belongs to others now;

You watch them ghostly as
They come and fro, in and out

Of rooms, and up and down
Stairs, talking to each other

As once you and your family
Did, even their rows are the

Same, with the same spite
And anger shown. Some days

You sit by the window and look
Out or wander around the house

From room to room, just to walk
About to see things as they are

In this new fangled fashion with
Odd objects and ways of getting

Rid of passion. Some nights you
Creep around the rooms as others

Sleep, peering over shoulders,
Staring at faces, brushing at hair,

Which never moves, reaching out
To feel a hand, but never quite

Touching. Last night you sat and
Watched a couple making love,

Saw their wanton passion, their
Bodies moving, their oohs and

Ahs and moaning voices, and
Remembered the night when

Very young, you crept and heard
The same, when Mother and Father

In semi dark, played that game.

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