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Stepping on a memory
The stairs crack,
as I slowly walk
down them. The cold air
has put its touch upon
this wood where I step
lightly. Creak, Crack,
Creak, Crack. These
Stairs are old and
have been on this house
since Grandpa laid them
here many years ago, with
his worn, rough hands. They
have ripped skin and scars
that remain, but even through
the pain, he never gave up. Now
even as I use these sturdy steps,
they still hold a piece of him,
so everyday when I walk on these
Stairs, I walk upon his memory.
nice poem... that which lives in the heart never dies. eric
Oh yeaahh...very cool, Tommy. Smilesz....great visual effect - it gives an 'ooomphh' to the whole idea of walking down the stairs of a memory... Bittersweet, in a way, isnt it ? Smilesz. Hope u are doing fine over there~! :)
Very cool Tommy and I could hear those old stairs creaking as I read this. Very nice writing. Thanks :-)