Empty?

Absence?   Or anticipation?

 

Memory loves erasures

Invents a story to go with absence. Just ask the spoon how she feels about an empty bowl. Or a pen facing the final page of a notebook. No reason not to celebrate the invisible.

Name that tune

A jazz piece for sure and with lyrics about rain and night and something/someone gone. For good. Although absence is one of the least permanent things I've encountered. Suddenly, Spring arrives with madcap abundance, filling absence beyond measure. Like a favorite dish which no longer relies on a recipe. Or all the filled notebooks waiting for an audience of one.

A perspective on absence

Absence doesn't exist.  So what are you seeing? Absence is like an empty bowl, neither of them are. Absence is like an unwritten poem:  both of them palpable.