A Poet's Pen Laid Down Poem by Helen Crutchett

I lie in an empty bed, still warm from you,
raging rain slashes
against the windowsill
curtains cling to glass....

thunder and lightning start their sad
dirge of lament
the blackness of the sky
seeps through cracks
into the wall my sleepless nights....

where are you my Red Knight?
my poet, my bard of amazing stories
swept away with the river
of unwritten poems....

you left me to write between
the blank pages
lines of my own
love letters never to be
read by you.