This Old House
Inside Old House by cujo-chan
As this old house crumbles slowly to dust,
I humbly polish the prominent rust,
and more aware of my mortality,
I search for the tallest stalks to guide me
to the wilting garden beyond the door
overgrown with ferns, red roses no more.
My hopes are crushed with a once wreathed rosette
beneath my feet where memories are swept.
Yet, love returns through an open window.
On a wistful breeze, dreams will gently flow,
and as I rebuild this decrepit home,
I will sweeten the roof with honeycomb.
Then, I will hear your footsteps on the porch,
our whispers will dance like flames of a torch.
The staircase, once grand, will again rise high
beyond the attic into bluest sky
where concave hearts fill with abundant love
and loneliness dims in starlight above.
My days ahead in this lodge once decayed
will be free to love in the home I made.
From bone to ashes, destined are the dead,
but souls grant me peace from clouds overhead.
Written 7/14/20
Contest - Decaying House
Sponsor - Constance La France
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2020
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