The old house stood as sturdy as ever even as the mangled jade ivy clung and grasped as it had for decades, but she would never be killed. ........................ ........................ read full text »
A fine, descriptive peek into your background...I could almost see you in your surroundings. Strange how we are drawn to our earliest memories; part of what makes us who we are. Eloquent work :)
A gorgeous write. I loved the 'branches tatting windows', it reminded me of my Mother who did tatting, which as you obviously know is a kind of lace making. This was a joy to read, such a pleasure to the mind. Love Ernestine XXX
Sean, this is a wonderful poem with detailed descriptions of the place and time. I loved the image of hills shaped like a leprechaun's shoe. You placed me right inside the house while you had tea, cold on your ankles supplanted by the warm feelings in the old house. You write with the maturity of someone much older than your years. I look forward to reading much more of your work.
ya know, there is something so simply about this poem, and yet completely profound.
honestly i don't know what to say, I've been there before? had my on revalations.
'I've stood at the doorway of this house, a thousand times and never with enough compassion to re-enter it'
just something that came to mind...exlceent poem my friend.