And now they've gone.
Where the stairs thundered,
silence.
Where guitars or music blared,
quiet.
The chatter at the table,
gone.
Excited voices through ceilings,
hushed.
The summons from the kitchen
not needed.
The slammed door,
the morning rush,
the toilet flush,
stilled.
I sit and wonder
the cacophony of
twenty one years
gone.
John Carré Buchanan
