Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Laughter, silenced

Runs his hand over flaking paint,
yellow chips breaking from the sill,
adhering to his fingers, dried
edges slightly jabbing

old house, left alone: dust,
accumulated debris of absence,
wallpaper curling to escape
confinement, empty rooms

her room, twelve by twelve box,
window panes broken, fractured.
Still hears her laughter,

              -- from The White Cliff Poems

This poem is submitted to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.

Photograph by George Hodan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.


Martha J. M. Orlando said...

Perfect imagery, Glynn. I was right there in that house with you.

Louise Gallagher said...

There is such sadness in this. And beauty.

Brian Miller said...

old houses carry so much texture in their chipping paint...and memories that still echo....

Laurie Kolp said...

Great images... especially- dust,
accumulated debris of absence. This is so sad.

Happy 2013, Glynn!

nance said...

i can feel this one...

Laura Boggess said...

Goose bumps, Glynn! So beautiful. I wonder what it will feel like when that laughter is silenced...I think I must make sure I enjoy every pealing chuckle, every loud guffaw while they are here. Happy New Year to you.