The house is now quiet,
the children have gone
My beard they’ve left ruffled,
as memories grow long
With trains and dolls scattered
where last they played
Their love remains buried
inside of the maze
The cupola harkens
a last candle there burns
As the attic sits waiting
for the toys to return
The old house is silent
but deep from within
Their laughter still hides
—and my searching begins
(Thanksgiving: November, 2016)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: November 24th, 2018 20:18
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments3
Kurt, it sounds like you have much to be thankful for. Poignant.
Thanks Deb. Every year the kids (and grandkids) leave on Saturday, and a warm emptiness takes over this house where they were all raised.
Kurt,
A super poem!
It sounds magical!
As I read it,
I envisioned Sammy and Bumpers peeking in and enjoying watching the Behm family celebrate the love for one another and the many blessings bestowed upon them on Thanksgiving Day and throughout the year!
An exquisite read! Thank you for sharing! Always appreciated!
~Laura~
Thanks Laura, and you're right, Sammy & Bumpers went into hiding because Santa's
naughty Elf, Knothead, makes his appearance on Thanksgiving weekend every year.
Knothead hunts through the house late at night in search of Hershey Kisses and then
leaves the strewn wrappers all over the second floor. This year he lost one of his little black boots making his escape, and my youngest grandson, Braden, found it at the top of the back stairs.
The hunt continues.
Kurt
So that naughty and misbehaving elf escaped by using the back stairs! You know he’ll be back to claim his little black boot and to eat all the candy and cookies he can find. Does he still leave Hershey’s Kisses wrappers everywhere?
He does...
👍🏻☺️
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