Without Thinking What Is Out There Poem by Anastasia Paraskevoulakou

The mushroom of memory
is expanding on the glass table
in the room upstairs
on the side with the large window,
looking out where the trees stand;
You have been there all along
since day one like a net,
catching the whispers and calls
of happiness. Over the years,
you've become part of the outside world,
could call it time,
have locked yourself out,
perhaps intentionally
since the inside of the house
wouldn't let your mind travel
to some other places,
to some other times.
Leaves dress up your thoughts
as there is no need to go back,
stepping in that threshold
which you left behind
that evening in the heavy rain.
Since then, the mushroom of memory
has been growing on the glass table
in the living room
but there is no one inside
to defend any past.

October 2017