Her Secret

“Show me your house,” said she
As soon as we opened the door

Now, on the eighth day
The house is empty
Mute, quiet, refusing to
Wave goodbye

It was my house
She arrived at
But in her departure,
She left our home

In that difference
Between arrival and departure
Now I sit
Mute, quiet
Realizing her secret

Last of the crazy ones, perhaps.

Raj Karamchedu