open doors
There's nothing so glorious as the morning sun on your face,
morning light rushing through the windows to invade
your quiet sleep and scatter foggy dreams, calling to you -
the chapel bells ring with startling regularity - not unlike
your own time,
choosing when and where and diving into monochromaticism
without reserve
for freedom is yours and the light is yours
and monochromaticism is not a sin.
The white-stoned chapel stands still and cool -
the majestic tapestries singing songs of ages past.
The halls where great writers walked - N & H both -
the white stone remembering the fallen,
the red bricks and white windows and the houses with chimney-ears
that still smell like the last century,
in a good way.
This small town lacks glass,
but even the dam cannot kill the river
and the magnificent frontier houses laughter, warmth, and comfort.
Ah - the loveliness of summer,
the loveliness of joy,
being barefeet in the grass,
living with your music.
Let not words nor sticks nor stones make you falter -
walk on and onwards and live.
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Obscurity
Poetry❝I have never been myself as much as I have with you and all these words.❞ A beginner's attempt at poetry, exploring a few different forms and voices while trying to convey loss and beauty. Organized alphabetically, so feel free to read in what...
