Hello, my name is Rose. Sometimes I write things, but inspiration is a bit fickle. Feedback is welcome. Appreciate ya.
I remember a house
A dark, small house,
not yet a home.
Walls of white:
a desolate tundra,
Distant as the gray moon.
I will always fear that emptiness,
The sterility and smell of dust.
The muffled, breathless silence.
Solace lies without;
Under the warm sun in its azure sky,
Amongst the weeds and wildflowers.
Hope lies within me,
In tiny strains of music.
Songs so sweetly sung....
Those harmonies swell,
Spreading sunlight into my depths,
White walls now cast with a golden luster.
The gleam grows brighter
As the darkest night ends
And I am born anew, untouched by shadow.
Somehow, they have vanished:
The loneliness, the sorrow.
The life of duty and old blood.
Only clean blankness remains,
A fresh slate borne of ash;
Like a plain of untouched snow.
My skin falls away,
The mask of contrition dissolves,
My eyes banish the murky twilight...
And the world, in its endless majesty, glows.
Mark Tulin from Ventura, California on February 21, 2018:
Beautifully maintained and focused poem/home. Thanks.
Robin Carretti from Hightstown on February 16, 2018:
Has a mystical and very cool read I deeply enjoyed
Rose (author) on February 10, 2018:
Shyron E Shenko from Texas on February 10, 2018:
I hope your Muse
Will inspire you with many more
Poems like this that you can use
Blessings my friend
Rose (author) on February 09, 2018:
Thank you for your kind words, they mean a lot to me.
threekeys on February 09, 2018:
Something sweet and yet melancholic.
Your imagery affected my imagination.
Look foward to reading more of your poems, Rose.