there are footsteps down the lane
that leads past your mother’s door,
invisible, they remain,
though seen no more
for
the soul you are
still is
and all you were
you are
your spirit stays in more than memory,
you stroll gingerly, right past your mother’s door.
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3 comments:
this ws so beautiful...i was wondering if you arrange the typography according to the image that flows through the verse?
yet the thought alone... there is a certain sorrow here.. sacred, pale and serene..
writer woman i always miss something when i read your words...like it is there then not there.. then there again.. figures lost in the tapestry in a hazy room..
ill go read the other one now
I highlight some words to stress there meaning. I like to read aloud my poems and those are the words I stress.
Sara
I should be working on my blog, you know. There's lots to do with my blogiversary coming up. But I'm enjoying your writing...and appear to be conducting a reverse Commentathon. I have concern about writing too much. Yet, I'm intersted in what people think. I think that this piece, and your work overall, is outstanding.
Cheers!
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