Down the Hall

Down the hall
memories
dangle
from thin wire—

snapshots
of time;
and it
marches on
as fox
stares
and
ladybugs
crawl,
down the hall


leather strap dangles
teases to pull
entrance to
attic room…
from the hall
I peer
down stairs

and see
life pass by
as
I sit
on floor
outside door
and listen
while
shower rains
on youngest—
who is
too afraid
of mirror-ghosts
to remain
upstairs alone.
Down the hall
half-open doors—
just a glimpse—


an invitation:
“Come on in.”
For
as Lewis says,
it is
in the rooms
that fire warms
and hot
tea awaits.

Not in the hall.

Visit Seedlings in Stone to read more of our poetic house tour…

Comments

  1. says

    Laura, this poem is a leap in your poetic abilities. The placement of the rhymes is subtle and pleasing, the images wonderful, the conclusion satisfying. I hope you can feel what happened here, in the hall.

  2. says

    Love the words . . . but confess I stopped reading when I saw the world map on the bedroom wall. Were this my room, I’m afraid I’d never come out . . . I’d stay, dreaming, gazing at that beautiful South American land mass . . . lucky kid living in that room.

  3. says

    Oh…
    I sit here and learn from you — about what makes a poem, and about caring and loving enough to wait upstairs during the shower.
    Thanks for this. It is so uplifting.
    Monica

  4. says

    Laura,
    this captured me , in the morning quiet,
    I felt you

    I agree with L.L. , and to be in rooms, I am so blessed.
    The halls and thin wires, only the means , such as they are .

  5. says

    Laura,

    Even though tea is not in the hall, something much more important lingers…pieces, trails & traces of your family. I am in awe, much like the first time I stumbled in here a few months ago.

    Blessings.

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