Abandonded by those that have now grown
this empty anchored ship saturates in silence.
Once boyish blue walls now white washed
Lifeless, this room echo's in the absence.
Splintered windows and stained carpets.
Engraved garden trees.
Tatoos of time, signatures of yesteryear.
Removed to lure and please.
Disposable boxes heaving with memories
Bare cabinets beg for them to return
In this foreign room of unusual space.
There are faces on the wall with no frames.
There is laughter lost within the brick;
plastic it gets louder when all is silent.
The birds are nervous they sense change
this may be their last feed in the garden.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sigh...this is lovely Vincent. So well done and much enjoyed. (10 from me)