there's a light
in the window
of the house
forgotten by time;
a book on the table,
unopened.
footprints on the floor
covered with dust.
a cup in the sink
half-empty.
the wind blows
curtains grey with time....
whispering, whispering....
names that cannot
be heard.
voices, echoes,
creaking the floor.
a book of photographs
on the closet floor.
walking through the mist,
the fog and the shadows,
touching small particles
of being left like gifts....
lives unwrapped into mine!
A great poem. And its a great honour. Thankyou very much. You've made my day.
The emptiness of a home. Abandon and forgotten. But it never forgets you. Marks left deep beneath the wooden frame. Great poem as always.
wrote this in response to 'Spirits Of The Dead'... thanks, Dave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice! I once stumbled on a house like this as a kid, in the woods, no road nearby, just as if it had been suddenly abandoned with nothing removed, it haunted me for years. Still does.