A Little Poem

A humble effort about a memory

Made with Bing Image Creator

“The View Without”

I awakened early to an empty room

voices unheard the air un-perfumed

startled then and too soft to know

the riveted walls too dull to glow

such was life and all that he saw

the gate left open, a hoof, a claw

brown was brown where the green should go

the dreary blur from unhappy repose

anguished cries no one to hear

soft footprints mine, is no one near?

watching barely but he could see

faint shapes of what or who should be

out the cradle and above the frame

these glimpses barely did remain

these panics then in time do rust

and settle all around the brown-made dust

I panted then and cried still more

too young to know about the wind-blown door

anxieties grow out of such things

till sleep comes and dry his dreams…

…much much later but still the same

desolate rooms and unnamed things

old and young the same will mourn

when the brown was green

and no winds were born

when mothers hold their young ones adorned