it was the horn sounding
that finally took me
from holding you close
back into the cold room
alone and dejected

the battery half dead
the sound distorting
into a mocking squawk
sounding out through the quiet
stretched into anguish

the pillow clutched close
no longer my love
just a rapidly cooling reminder
of the oblong nature
as dream fades to reality

no matter how i position
even as the dying goose sound
is little more than
a brittle reminder that waking
is hell when she’s in my dream