Going From Here

 

Life’s lonely and quiet in this neck of the woods.
Her neglected fields are grown over where cornrows once stood.
The barns a corpse who wails and moans when wind plays through its frame.
His last stand marked by the plow that somberly remains.
She’ll not outlast the cabin built but none will take her place.
As the one who dwells its weather beaten and as tired as her face.
The tea she holds warms her hands the fire warms her feet.
In her rocking chair she relives a life when she was young and sweet.
A candle flickers on the shelf from the hearth the rooms a glow.
The shadows dance to a silent tune that instinctively they know.
The burnt pine and oak scent the air perfumed by her tea.
The floor and chair creaks like a ship drifting listlessly.
Awake she dreams of long ago when she was some ones wife.
The cries of babes and children’s laughter filled her home with life.
Her imagination slips unnoticed across her tired eyes.
She sees angels dart about the room no longer hidden or disguised..
She’s somewhere else and someone else making something else come true.
Alone she laughed while in her vision her friends about her grew.
Her downward cast sees all things that before she never tried.
Above beyond is an endless view stretching out and high and wide.
Colors, sound and fragrances like none that’s stroked her soul.
The tastes so sweet and touch so soft and a love that never lost its hold.