Everything Remembers


There are so many houses that seem
Born with ghosts behind their windows
Bare panes looking inwards
Little moving picture shows flickering
Pale silver and silent, spilling their stories
Onto dusty floorboards that groan
Beneath the weight of things remembered
First Christmases, last breaths
Hallways that echo embraces
Or ring with the final door slamming,
Rooms thronged with the joyous
New hope, or hope abandoned
Recriminations, endearments, tongues of every shade
The air breathless having been imprisoned
Within generations of lungs,
So much of life being born by wood and nails
Seeming almost too fragile to hold
A burden that would render most to less than dust,
Still they stand, lonely, remembering
Silent, still now, dreaming all of the lives
Now just ghosts bound by window panes.

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One Response to “Everything Remembers”

  1. arland sud-eye davis Says:

    brick house
    palace of tears
    no ghosts
    no panes
    no evidence of their existance

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