PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A tiny little cabin nestled amongst the trees,

Spreading ivy,stretching farther than the eye can see.

A board was missing from the front step,

and the gathering dust,a good sign it hadn't been swept.



Rays of gold on the tin roof from the suns bright glare,

It was rusted some and had a few leaks here and there.

She sheltered her eyes,as she sat in her old wooden rocker.

Most of the time that's where you would find her.



Splinters haunted her every now and then,

and try as she might she forgot to get Daniel to fix it once

again.Slowly her mind was leaving her, old age was grasping her tight,her aches and pains causing lack of sleep

at night.



She smoothed back her snow white hair,it was only whiffs come loose from her bun,but she didn't care. Why bother anymore?Who was she too look pretty for?She yawned,streatching so deep,and grabbing her cane by her chair decided she would try once again to sleep.



The minutes past, one, two, then three,she tossed and turned, but still didn't sleep.

Echos, voices, memories from years past times,ageless,

timeless, lost dreams left behind.



She had tried to forget,but her heart kept her thoughts,it didn't really matter about her needs,about her wants.

Lots of things she didn't want to recall,

but then Nothing really mattered at all.



A trace of tears,left her dull green eyes, once they were filled with hope,but that was before she realizedjust how hard it was to cope. To much, way to much,and after all these years,she still craved his touch.



A storm raged inside her, and her tears became her pain,and they come spraying gently like the misty rain.The hurt, the anger, the ripping of her heart,and piece by piece she was slowly falling apart.



She props her head upon her arms and stares at the ceiling,it was times like this,she got such an empty feeling.All that was left for her to do,Was go back in time,go back and hope that this would get him off her mind.



She reached beside her on the old nightstand and her arthritic fingers curled around her memories, packed up in a tin can.Wasn't nothing fancy, no diamonds or such,and too most people it really wouldn't mean much.



To her, they were her world, her star that shone bright,pieces, the pages of her life.An ongoing tale of love's first flame,and even after his

death,her love for him remains.