Quite House by Richard Maxfield 5-14-99 The house is quite, not a sound memories haunt, and thought abound no sound, of children at play darkness of night, broken by day lonely shadows, dance on the walls inside each room, and down the halls wafting scents, float through the air hopeless feeling, of despair ghost of yesterday, freely roam inside this once, so happy home haunting echoes, of nothing said thoughtless selfishness, of love now dead screaming pain, of words that kill depressing emotions, are all I feel aching loneliness, invades this place love and happiness, not a trace no more laughter, no love to share truths of love, are not fair sun rises and falls, with curtains drawn victim of love, another life’s pawnBirth sign: Gemini
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Richard Maxfield.