The Weight Of Absence Poem by ashok jadhav

The chairs sit untouched,
their wood cold beneath a hand that will not come.
Rooms stretch wide with quiet,
walls holding the echo of voices
that no longer fill their space.
I trace the corners with my eyes,
fingers brushing air where laughter once lingered,
and even the floors remember
the rhythm of footsteps now gone.
Windows frame the world outside,
but inside, silence reigns,
heavy as stone, patient as grief,
and I feel the absence in every breath.
Every object murmurs memory,
every shadow whispers your name,
and the house itself seems to mourn,
holding spaces for what cannot return.
I walk among the emptiness,
a solitary witness to vanished presence,
learning that loss is not only sorrow—
it is the shape that remains
in chairs, in rooms, in every quiet corner.