• A simplistic note,
    It had to be hers,
    He recognized the way she wrote,

    The silence inside,
    A coarse empty home,
    This old place she does not reside,

    Such a foolish child,
    How could you believe,
    Those things she forgot in a while,

    Tears on the floor,
    Arise from the dust,
    And then turn to ash once more,

    What somber silence,
    But she won't return,
    Her youth home she's never been since.