Death Of A Recluse Who Never Ventured Forth By Day Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

This morning, when I woke,
the house next door
had an incredulous, dishevelled look,
an all-windows-open stare.

My neighbour had not come out to fetch
yesterday’s paper from the letterbox.
The front door, by day so tightly latched,
stood wide open to the morning’s flux.

Hasty visitors went and came and went –
silent, businesslike – not invited, sent.
Callers he had never known by sight
were taking him out into the harmless light.