Paint is peeling
From tired walls
Rosewood furniture
Standing tall.
Windows glass
Shattered, missing
Photographs slanted
History kissing.
A distant past
Memories flow
Half hidden in dust
Eyes which know.
Invisible now
To those who visit
The floorboards creak
To the feet of spirit.
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Author:
nephilim56 (
Offline) - Published: March 16th, 2024 11:49
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Alan R
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