Down the road less traveled
There is a place with a million
steps that are worn away - I
decided to venture; at the top
I walked down a cobblestone
street . . .
I came up to an old wooden door
That when opened turned into a
daguerreotype stained in black
and gray – silhouettes of all my
loved ones from the past were
inside . . .
Hundreds of years of dust tried
To cover all memories – the walls
echoed their voices that were once
heard; mirrors still reflected the light
from smiling faces; I began to feel their
presence . . .
Then aging voices whispered to me
The way things use to be – they were
no longer strangers; took me back to a
special time, it was now in my heart; and
if I ever lost my way, just close my eyes and
dream . . .
Their footsteps were no longer heard
But were now frozen in time – as I got
ready to leave, a feeling of solace took
me back one last time to a place that
seemed so familiar; a part of them was with
me . . .