Empty Bed--Free Verse--National Poetry Month

I know we probably have another poetry type scheduled, but this one is in my heart today, so I'm doing at least this one my way:

Empty bed

Covers still askew

Reminds me 

That my boy is gone.

Somehow this time 

Hurts worse,

Though in a good way.

More permanent.

I sit at the foot, 

Of his still sheeted, 

Welcome-home-from-your-mission bed

Remembering.

Wearing his underpants 

Backwards

So he could see the Rangers, 

He was Robin in a scarlet cape

To his elder brother's Bat,

Softy sword thrust through

The waistband, 

Pink fringy cowgirl boots

That he loved

More than 

Fearing the ridicule.

He and the Bat stacked soup cans

Until someone got hurt.

Always

Such a chipmunk, 

Cute and energetic, 

Building problem-solving gadgets

And Leggo towers.

There might even be a brick or two

Lurking in the dust

Beneath the bed,

Along with his lost Scout book

And one or two neckerchief slides.

Will he take his Pinewood derby cars,

Or the notebooks 

Filled with drawings, 

Duck stamp competition ribbons,

Old toys and Waldo books?

Or leave them 

To gather dust

Like his lonely bed.

He was my listening post,

My confidante,

My life line in the storms,

My green-furred island.

How I'll miss him.

But he is no longer

My creature.

I can only hope

I have honed him well for her.

I sit at the foot of his bed

And weep.

© 2017 by H. Linn Murphy