My house was full.
Full of people;
Bringing dishes,
Bringing bottles,
Bringing children;
Bringing friends of friends of friends.
My house was full of music, my house was full of laughter, my house was full of noise.
Washing dishes;
Picking up the detritus;
Emptying the ashtrays;
Finding things between the cushions;
Finding people under blankets;
Waking up the neighbors;
Tossing out the trash.

Missing coats;
Missing sweaters;
Decks of cards, sandy towels;
Forgotten shoes and phones and chords and sunglasses.

My house was full of lies.

My house is very, very quiet now.

Insignificance is an asset.
To cultivate.
To allow.
To recover and evolve.
Under the quiet stirs a warm and welcome, healthy little hum.