He is a house
With a backyard and all,
Chipped concrete steps,
Blind holes in the walls,
And strange doors
That don’t close
All the way through.
He gets a paint,
A shade less dark
But gets overlooked,
Even though he looks sharp
From outside the doors
That don’t close
All the way through.
He sometimes has visitors,
And they often talk,
Leave cobwebs of memories
Before they walk
Out of the strange doors
That don’t close
All the way through.”
©Aaysid
“Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.”
Kurt Vonnegut
Oooof. This is good.
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Thank you so much! 🙂
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My kind of place
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😊😊
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Deep poem, Aaysid. Gorgeous imagery and feelings. Well done! ☺️
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Thank you so much, Jeff. 😊
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You’re welcome, Aaysid. Always. ☺️
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😊😊
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That was so powerful. Loved and enjoyed reading this!!💛
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Thank you so much for your kind comment. 😊
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So touching and true. A house is so much but often down the years it gets neglected. Lovely writing! 🙂
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Always happy to see your insightful comments. Thank you so much.😊
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