Emptiness
is an
Empty Nest
The wind at the window
scratches tiny notes.
I can no longer hear the tune
nor read the words.
Who walks beside me
as I pace my lonely path,
abandoned
in this empty house.
My self-portrait
stares back at me:
a splintered selfie,
framed in a sliver
of silvery glass.
Above me,
the monkey-faced moon,
that itinerant tinker,
walks a fractured way
over broken glass.
The knapsack on his back
is cobbled together
from a finery of cobwebs
and clumsy clouds.
rogermoorepoet 
Very elegantly and delightfully lyrically evoked!
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Thank you. I love the two photos, especially the top one. Clare took that photo some years back, all those tiny shorebirds sheltering from the wind. And what a lonely woodpecker, settling into a snow-capped suet feast.
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They are beautiful photographs 😊
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