Moving Away

You are gone
friend.
Your house remains
in sad
condition,
your dream unfulfilled.

The attic windows
weep
their master's absence.
Gutters spill
their tears to
small sorrow ponds,
reflecting the forlorn
structure without a soul.

Still, there is life,
your reflection
seen briefly
when the memory sun
tears through
the mourning clouds.

c 2009