A House Called Lonely, (Part 2) The Sequel Poem by sylvia spencer
A House Called Lonely, (Part 2) The Sequel
Dark mountains flash in front of my eyes as most
of the blue disappears from the sky's.
Then winter burrows itself into my brain as the dismal
cold days return again. The drab November where there
are only wind falls to reap, all is but faded as the garden
goes to sleep
The Christmas candle shows not a light in the hall and the
bows are not decked, there is nothing at all. No Christmas
Tree with the fairy folly, no misletoe and sprigs of holly.
Junk mail scattered all over the floor with weeds and ivy
growing up the front door.
I can remember the Christmases and the new years but
those were the days without any fears. Children laughing
and Auld Lang Syne, everything was perfect and so divine.
I will hang on to my memories as the cold bites in, just
praying for the day for a family to have within.
No one comes and no ones views, what of my hopes
just deverstation and blues. I am lost to the world with
no comfort of home, I am just a house forgotten and alone.
I liked the structure of this sad story - the reader only realizes who is narrating the tale in the last line. You have great compassion Sylvie and you share it with your reader by using the theme of Christmas to reinforce the lonliness of the house. love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxx
Very touching and noble sentiments expressed here. One feels that the lonely house could be a symbol of all the lonely people in the world as well. Your compassion becomes you Sylvia. Wonderful write. Love, Sandra
I am deeply moved by this poem, I think that is has a message for all to learn, we must try and understand the concept of being alone and consider those that have to bear this, Perhaps this Christmas we too could call on that neighbour who sits alone in their chair reminiscing, and place good cheer to their hearts and a warmth for their new year This is a wonderful poem, thankyou Sis Love duncan X
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 4:56:08 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The old letters scattered willy-nilly on the floor, the dust powdering the door frames and the cobwebs lacing the echoing corridors....I can see it all in my mind's eye after reading this one..... what a sad house. So well described, Sylvie. Now for the last part... Love, Fran xxx