The mortar is crumbling to dust
And this home I've lived in for so long is falling apart
Each room I've stepped in holds so many memories, happy and sad
Each creak of the floorboards
A symphony of life in motion
But the stairs are ready to topple now
So many times they've been trodden on
More recently so, with the weight of my burdens
That to trudge up them once more would bring the whole place crashing down
The view of the garden, once fertile and green
Is nothing but weeds choking what were once vibrant seeds
There is no life left here now
Just shadows and dust
Ghosts and what may have been
As I close the door one last time
I breathe deeply and step forward
So goes it with my heart
-
Author:
Saxon Crow (
Offline) - Published: July 26th, 2021 00:05
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 39
- User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments11
A sad but poignant read - super work SC.
Damn it I was going for out going and uplifting! Thanks Mike
Very good words SC. As you move away from those memories new ones will be created.
Andy
A well described feeling i know only too well on occasion.
You falling to bits? Will you be just a heap?! A fine write SC.
A poem of the ages, or should I say 'aged'? 👍
Just don't say there is no life here.It seems to a very lived in house.With lots of memories
What now - tent? caravan? squat?
No option? Renovation or detonation?
Housing has been a problem for much of my life (until now), Sax - so I'm up for problem solving.... Got enough to eat and warm clothing?
Definitely a boat.
'The mortar is crumbling to dust
And this home I've lived in for so long is falling apart'
'Each creak of the floorboards
A symphony of life in motion
But the stairs are ready to topple now
So many times they've been trodden on'..
yeah, I am there
hovering on that same plank
between, that next step
and:
'Just shadows and dust
Ghosts and what may have been'
so I try, to find a view to a future:
'I breathe deeply and step forward
So goes it with my heart'..
(such a brilliantly, despairing voice
you've inked alive
for us to connect with and relate-to)
thank you, dear poet
Melancholy write, S.C.
are dreams disposed of
raging on the winds of time
As one door closes, another door opens. Nicely penned Sax.
there's just gotta be mortar life than sadness, misery, getting old, moving on and loosing things ............................. despite me liking todays offering and very much, I cannot put my finger on why exactly I found it so compelling or intriguing .................................... N 🙂
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