A story in verse.
An empty house
Sits by the road
It used to contain my dreams
Now they've fled
Like horses from a fire
The windows have been left open
The front door ajar
I can hear the wind through the pines
From here
Once love lived there
But no longer
If feelings were colors
Mine would be grey and black
And jealousy the darkest green
The house sits empty
Emptied by grief and strife
Betrayal and lies
I can smell the sea
From here
I will go down to the sea
And pass this way no more.
September 3, 2007
© Anne Westlund 2007
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 789 times
Written on 2007-09-27 at 08:40
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Gothic
An empty house
Sits by the road
It used to contain my dreams
Now they've fled
Like horses from a fire
The windows have been left open
The front door ajar
I can hear the wind through the pines
From here
Once love lived there
But no longer
If feelings were colors
Mine would be grey and black
And jealousy the darkest green
The house sits empty
Emptied by grief and strife
Betrayal and lies
I can smell the sea
From here
I will go down to the sea
And pass this way no more.
September 3, 2007
© Anne Westlund 2007
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 789 times
Written on 2007-09-27 at 08:40
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
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