He had a strange habit of always leaving the light on in the bathroom.
Neighbors complained, saying the light was getting in their way.
He told them his wife would like to keep them on so she wouldn't get lost when she woke up in the dark trying to navigate the dark hallway.
The old man's gone crazy they said. His wife's dead. She had been for seven years.
The old man knew that all too well as he still grieved her loss.
The old man closed his eyes and heard her footsteps creaking under the old wooden floors. She knew exactly where to go, only because he left her the light to see the path.
The old man passed on to join his wife on midnight strolls around the house when no one else seemed to be around.
The new occupants complained of the noise that followed along the halls only at night when the sun was hiding behind the rest of the world.
The neighbors told them to turn on the light in the bathroom. The old couple will stop wandering lost when they can see the path.
"That's only superstition. These neighbors are just paranoid. They want to scare the new occupants for their own selfish ways."
But they left the light on anyway.
Resting their eyes, they heard the faintest whisper, saying, "Thank you for showing her the way back."
You can say it became a strange habit to leave the bathroom light on and coffee in the mug on the kitchen counter even if no one was there.
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How habits can pass on and live even when the people have long so left.
YOU ARE READING
Life Beneath The Words At Play
PoezjaMy poetry is only to fill blank pages. You decide how to color it in. That meaning, you can interpret the poems the way you want. I only put the words together, and you decide the rest :) Yet another poem dump for my unorganized mess that is my poe...
