These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Where?

What do we do when they're just gone?
Where can we look when there's no trace?
How can we live without a dawn?
How can we love no hugs to place?

The little hamlet, Fairly Same,
ensconced within a country vale.
Its country goes by down-face name
of Nevermore, so bored and pale.

A hundred folks, quite blissful knit.
They went to bed one autumn night,
but in the morning peace was bit
by cries, and wails, and deepest fright.

"Where have they gone? Where can we look?"
"How many now remain of us?"
"I found his clothes in bedtime nook."
"Her dolly keeps her mitten, thus."

"Now all our children and one man
have vanished in the air this day."
"How could he silent keep his plan?"
"How could his neighbors most betray?"

No gift of Goodbyes for this town,
no hope for breaking hearts to mend.
They trudged their work. Each wore a frown
with naught but clothes, effects to tend.

How could they pray for none knew God,
except the ones, who were not now?
The preacher, whom they once had awed
sure took their young in ghostly scow.

by Jay O’Toole
on September 20th, 2023