It's Not the Same

It's not the same since you died.
The door to your room remains closed.
As I look at it sadly,
I miss seeing your eye peering under it
and your little foot reaching out.
Mommy and I ate in the kitchen tonight,
and you were not here parading across the room.
Your spot on the rug looks so empty without
you on it.
Mommy found your little furry gray toy mouse.
We miss seeing you laying on the rug and batting
at your mouse with your back feet.
Your spot on the couch looks so lonely and
empty without you.