Echoes In The Walls Poem by Micronjan (Micron)

I wandered through fields where the tall grasses sway,
Wildflowers whispered of lives slipped away.
The wind carried sighs I could almost know,
Stories of laughter, of sorrow, of woe.
Each step felt drawn by a weight unseen,
A pulse of the past threading through green.

The cottage rose, bowed and hollowed by time,
Its walls a ledger of rhythm and rhyme.
Windows gaped open, like eyes long closed,
Through cracks, the light fell where memory dozed.
Brambles and ivy stitched secrets inside,
Holding the presence no absence could hide.

Inside, the air was damp with rain's breath,
And I felt the stirrings of life and of death.
A dip in the floor by the front door showed
Where countless feet had worn the wood below.
Broken chairs and tables, each splintered stone,
Still held the warmth of a family long gone.

I sensed them move through the slanting light,
Their voices like whispers just beyond sight.
The house remembered each sigh and embrace,
Every small gesture time cannot erase.
Their souls pressed into timber and beam,
Living still in the silence, in shadow, in dream.

I stood in the glow where the sun touched the floor,
Felt the soft weight of those who were before.
The breeze carried warmth, like a hand held near,
And I knew they were present, though never here.
For the house keeps their lives in its bones and its rhyme,
A haunting reminder of love beyond time.