the empty house

out of breath
I reach home, I've run for miles
to get here.
my arrival
goes unnoticed.
there is no one to greet
me. no bark from my dog.
he's not here.
the blinds are closed.
the doors tight.
the locks have been changed.
the mail box is empty.
I peer through the window.
the rooms are dark.
no lights are on.
the furniture is covered
with sheets.
the floors are full of dust.
I see no one.
as I stand there,
then go from window to
window.
the weather changes.
spring has turned into
fall.
I am in my shirt sleeves.
shorts.
I am not prepared for this.
I sit on the porch
and try to remember
the life
I had before this one.