A CLOSING by May Miller

In a house of empty rooms, I thought I heard a door close down the long hall.

I couldn’t know whether someone had entered, whether someone had left.

No further step, simply the closing of a door-an absence of other defined stir, more like the hum of water in a hidden spring, like a starved echo from an exacting hill I could not measure.

I reached for the reassuring hand. It was not there. He had gone ahead.

May Miller

Category: Healing,