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Shadows in the light

I walk from room to room
trying to catch a glimpse of you,
and all that I could see,
are muted shadows playing tag.

Sunlight catches visions
of days now stored in memory
and with your recent passing,
you climbed upon the misty crag.

The kitchen tap still leaks,
we've fixed that oft and time again;
your trusty stove still works,
those smells and tastes still fresh in mind.

The bed is fresh and made,
your dresser's bottle-pageant gleams;
what looks to be amiss --
your faithful clock now needs a wind.

The chair is set in place
as if in wait for your arrival;
a lone book gathers dust
on a table by those French doors.

The phone stands in vigil
to receive voices from far away;
whose soles had once traversed
and kissed these polished parquet floors.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
My heartfelt thanks to those that have extended their sympathies. Maybe this short poem is the beginning of a grieving process or maybe would help through it.
Editing stage: 

Comments

Sigh

Oh how this is written for your reader and yes for yourself that displays such a vision in my head of Grandmothers chair and her book. I can not comment now as it has got to me throat. I will write more late. I send my condolences to you and the family and know we are all here for you. Keep writing about her and yes it will comfort you indeed.

Blessings and thoughts
Mona

I am trully comforted by your condolences and those of our poetic family here at neopoet.

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'Break, break break on thy cold grey stones, O Sea.'

author comment

my condolences, and yes, you have begun the grieving process. I felt the lonliness of the empty rooms, and the sight of the book on the table, was impressed in my mind. I was drawn to memories of my grandmother's apt. where I lived with her before her passing. Nice work, ~ Geezer

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The unfinished book would gather dust and is a reminder of how until her last she was in tune with life and those who live it. It is a significant image as poets too are connected through books. Thanks Geeze

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'Break, break break on thy cold grey stones, O Sea.'

author comment
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