There is a hollow drip Of loneliness now occupying Our home by the bay. Genuine dread has ascended Upon the rooftop, Like the wings of butterflies, But they are smothering And making it impossible to survive. Sorely missed is the intimacy We once shared enjoying The chanting of the hills And watching as the sun Slipped into the night. The emptiness has hit me Like a small entry in the Catalogue of pain. Crying has drained my heart. How do I rekindle the lost touch.