Left behind in empty rooms
That fill with light shown from the moon.
Daytime shows a different scene.
A small echo found in between
The crumbling walls and floorboards.
A brighter place, more easily adored,
This echo of a memory grows
What’s hidden by the nighttime shows,
And everything left to remembering
Shows home the better place to be.
Posted in Musing
Tagged crumble, day, echo, floorboard, home, light, Moon, night, poem, poetry, remember, wall
Empty walls and clear blue skies,
We both grow old: the building and I.
The bricks crumble, leave dust behind.
Who dies first? Me or these walls?
Abandoned brick and mortar fall
Long after my last scrawl.
Both without purpose die alone.
To give and give love we find our home,
In helping each other we find our own.
Posted in On A Positive Note
Tagged brick, crumble, die, dust, give, help, kind, love, mortar, poem, poetry, wall
A house of dust and feathers flown,
In an unforgiving wind, too long alone.
A murder of crows jealously guard what they cannot have,
A flock of sparrows, to better fields, fly at long last.
Its weathered wood does not look above to the pale blue sky,
Indifferent clouds do not look down as they float by.
If we ask, these walls might tell of tales past long ago.
A voice on the wind then whispers: “We may never know.”
Thanks to my friend Carole D. For permission to use her photo.
Posted in Nature
Tagged bird, birdhouse, blue, cloud, crow, feathers, field, fly, house, poem, poetry, sky, sparrow, tale, wall, weathered, wind, wood
I had died atop a wall and my grave found me smiling.
I died not from the fall, but in the change of dying.
Form to form, now not the same.
As one who sleeps through winter
No snow on my eyes fallen,
As in death there is no winner.
Through seasons of my body? No,
Through seasons of my soul.
My former self has died, but I
Shall live on or so I’m told.
Posted in Personal
Tagged body, change, die, eye, Fall, live, poetry, season, sleep, soul, wall, winner, winter