The Old House

The Old House

 The old house

Shades its eyes

Against the golden glow

Of the afternoon sun.



27th February 1989

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Frost

Frost In the night The silent frost Deals out death Quietly, To frail things That creep and grow. Its deadly power Stretches far. The living Die Soundlessly And the world Sleeps on. Yet You can pick up A frosted leaf And melt The crystals With The touch of a Warm finger! 26th July 1993
Read more

Maybe

Maybe "Maybe it's for the best!" If it was for the best The best would be much better than this - Sitting here writing thoughts. It doesn't pay To think about the best! Can't remember what gave rise to this!
Read more

My Father

My Father What if I were to die today? I dreamt I saw my father Tall and gaunt Wearing his old MacKinlay kilt Too long for him A shroud maybe? He looked at me at first, But when I moved forward He wouldn't come near me Or Look at me!
Read more