HOMAGE TO LONELY THINGS:

I hear your old voices calling out to me,

Old things, weeping tears of past histories,

“Look at me, touch me, please don´t forget”,

Oddments of love once given, or part of a set.

The holiday snaps of folk gone & long forgotten,

Sepia smiles, so brown-stained & moth begotten,

The watch with lost tick & old clock without a tock,

Upon hanger frayed, the yellowing wedding frock.

The doll with lost smile, the teddy without an eye,

Toys discarded by age & long-ago-times gone by,

A rocking chair on porch & cot now with no babe,

Pages in old albums, of lost memories now made.

An unpaired saucer & a rose-sprigged-cracked cup,

Willow-patterned plate, from where we once supped,

And where is that maid in the mirror, now so cracked?

Now, only sounds of old creaking, mossy, rusted & black.

Keys of old rust now weeping, having lost their dead locks,

Quilt´s faded old story in stitches, now sit´s & palely mocks,

Abandoned house on the hill, with no folk of its very own,

 Tomb of old soldier now gone, in a graveyard, dark & alone.

Through life´s old attics & cellars, I wander, I tiptoe & wend,

Touching all the old memories, merely to give them a friend,

Lonely things, their whispers now wafting away on the breeze,

I hear them calling to me, “just once more, love us again please”.