ImageLonely little alcove with the tired, brown carpet

At the edge of town where the train whistle is loud

Hodge-podge neighbors, poor, but rich in spirit with a splattering of mobile transients

The bottom drawer of the oven is ajar, off track, the refrigerator is loud, the plumbing is…

An empty field with sometime raccoons, the penthouse view

One big window, flimsy at best, held strong against a strong, north wind in bad storm, late at night

Patio, three feet wide, secluded by morning glory, purple majesty

The old man next door is a shut-in, his cough echoes

Ready to leave, leave I must

This place has held me awhile, kept warm in winter’s rage, kept cool in summer’s expanse

I have no claim on it, yet it is sad to say goodbye

to the part of me that will stay bent and whispering to purple flowers on the vine.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s