THE EMPTY ROOM

I have seen today this empty room.
The person who lived in it
welcomed the sun every afternoon
and in the morning
—the morning meant opening the three windows
and sending a smile.
Stopping the time.

The person used to lay hands, full of wheat,
on the window sill
and feel—God extends him His hand—
the wing of a dove.

Sometimes the wind called in
delivered letters
arranging them on the floor.
The person who lived here
couldn’t walk.
Today geranium overgrows the wheelchair.

I have come in.