the twilight hours

House of Heart

I feel you in the pouring rain

violent or soft as a summer storm.

A distant star you appear only to fade

into the night from which you came.

Decaying gardenias fill my room with mortality

a treacly specter of  memories.

Wounded hearts are slow to heal

I have become indifferent to pain.

We are a wasteland,  all poetic breath died with us.

I long for the scent of earth infused with deep roots

the soothing sounds of chimes swaying from the

limb of a live oak,  soothing sounds for the twilight hours.

Image result for paintings of dying gardenias

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5 thoughts on “the twilight hours

        1. Happy for you!!! Had just enough rain about 5 mess up the pickleball courts. Other than that – All is well (think about hearing the town crier) Ha! These days just having your feet hit the floor starts the day off right! LOL!!! Hope your day is Happy, My Dear!

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