If I look closely enough,
I can almost see your footprints
in the dust.
Following their trail
across the old wooden floor,
my thoughts return
to a room filled with joy
and love.
Children playing on the sofa
as we sipped sweet Chardonnay
Now just distant echoes:
Sad
Lonely
Decayed.
This musty space of memories,
abandoned,
left to rot,
meandering through the house
like family photographs
lost.
No paintings on the walls.
No lipstick cups.
No drifting smells of coffee,
charring toast
or
Sunday roasts
There's nothing left here now.
Our time has gone.
I shall open all the windows
free our souls.
About the Creator
Simon Aylward
Undiscovered Irish Playwright and Poet - Seeker of eternal youth - Wannabe time traveller and believer in spiritual energies - Too many books to read, not enough time!
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.