The Empty House

A house once stood upon a dreary cold and dark hill

It was near the edge of damnation and now it is a wasteland full of books that were written in and some left open.

Books of my life and books I have read

Books full of regret

Books full of lost love

Books full of the things I had and had not done…..

A storm hit and now it lies foggy and unable to find.

I looked into the house before the fog had hit and found my books rotting in spite of all I had done

You were there and you were so angry that you threw one at me

You said finally you didn’t love me.

O how I wanted you.

O how I cherished your heart.

But you invaded my space and left my house with torn and battered books.

Leave me alone for my heart is an empty household full of nothingness

And now I will only remember what love and Spring was like

But then without these books I will forget

What love had felt like and how the seasons encased you.

And especially the gentle breeze that holds you to me

And I’ll be your memory…..

To forget.