Deafened by this sea of silence,
In the aftermath of the storm.
He left the house in a fit of anger,
As the snow first began to swarm.
The symphony of this house was simply,
Harsh words thrashing to and fro.
The whiskey-clouds that filled the air,
Are all she'd ever really known.
Two days spent in this dreary hole,
With not a shadow to be seen.
The cigars lie there long forgotten -
No fire to spark their hazy dreams.
Winter has gone and Spring is here,
But still the man has not returned.
Could this all be one mighty prologue
To the freedom she has so yearned?
~ C. Spies
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