THE LONE ECHO

 

 

THE STAIRCASE

 

I close my eyes to sleep,

and what do I see?

The stairs from my

elementary school.

I  hear children’s voices

as they dash to their classes.

I hear their shouts

as they run to the basement for lunch.

I can’t see their faces

but only hear their voices.

All I can see is the empty staircase,

the lone echo of my childhood.

ECHO

THE STAIRCASE
I close my eyes to sleep,
and what do I see?
The staircase from my past.
The stairs from my
elementary school.
I can hear children’s voices
as they run up the stairs to classes.
I can hear their shouts
as they run down to the basement...

 

THE STAIRCASE

I close my eyes to sleep,

and what do I see?

The staircase from my past.

The stairs from my

elementary school.

I can hear voices

as the children run up the stairs.

to their classes.

I can hear their shouts

as they run down

to the basement for lunch.

I can’t see their faces.

I only hear their voices.

All I can see is the empty staircase.

The lone echo of my childhood.

 

HOT BALL OF YELLOW

A hot ball of yellow

sets over a palette

of grey and blue.

Cries of laughter float

through a park of green

dotted with bushes of red.

Rainbow-colored homes

behind white picket fences

hold hands in the waning light.

A perfect place.

For daydreaming.

For wishes.

For The Dead.

THE DEAD GAME

THE CARNIVAL

 

 

The carnival calls to me.

Sounds of laughter

float to me in the distance.

I want to be there.

I want to be a child again

for one afternoon.

Go back in time when

life was enjoyed to its fullest.

I will dip my toes in the sand

and run to the carnival.

I will buy cotton candy and

eat it with sticky fingers.

I will ride the ferris wheel

until I am dizzy from the height.

Children are running to the rides.

I am one of them.

For this afternoon,

I am one of them.

THE STAIRCASE

 

I close my eyes to sleep,

and what do I see?

The staircase from my past.

The stairs from my

elementary school.

I can hear children’s voices

as they run up the stairs to classes.

I can hear their shouts

as they run down to the basement for lunch.

But I can’t see their faces.

I can only hear their voices.

All I can see is the empty staircase.

A lone echo of my childhood.