The Music Room

we are exiting rooms quickly,

much faster than it took 

for us to fill them with life, 

things we loved, thought 

we needed and finally, didn't

it comes down to walls; 

they stare back at me 

devoid of art or purpose 

alone in the basement this morning

I hear voices, laughter

and an imagined wall of sound 

hits me as I close the door 

that only partially stopped 

the waves of amplified guitars, 

boom of bass and drum; 

the poetry of my sons' lives 

overcome, I turn to climb
three flights of stairs 

with a last load of laundry

I will never be a lucky witness 

to those moments again, 

thankful beyond these few 

inadequate words

that I had such times