Discolored and torn......

A silent hush, not even a stray breeze,
an empty room, yet memories abound.
Children's laughter once permeated,
pulling up a chair not hearing a sound.

A broken window off in the distance,
shards of glass spread all over the floor.
Dust and cobwebs distort the dulled light,
what once was rich, now remains poor.

Reaching for a blanket that once was new,
dirty and tattered, discolored and torn.
Wrapping it around from shoulder to shoulder,
it carries a strange scent, lonely and forlorn.

Listening to the surf beating against the rocks,
at the bottom of the cliff, relentless and steady.
Many others have stood by this window,
staring out, patiently, waiting and ready.

An eerie uneasiness, an overwhelming feeling,
encompasses every pore, as never before.
Another is here, though not to be seen,
an essence, a strangeness, a spirit of yore.

An overpowering presence trying to reach out,
bridging what was with what is today.
Sound of music, sad, muted and soft,
rusted music box, a waltz it does play.

Standing to dance, a gentle spirit appears,
as intoxicating sounds play havoc with emotion.
The warmth of love filling this old room,
is one of everlasting devotion.

Two warmly embrace as they glide along,
tantalizing music plays, shattering any defeat.
The warmth and love shared in this room,
will throughout eternity continue to repeat.

As morning approaches it is time to depart,
carefully place the worn blanket on the floor.
With falling tears, leaving memories behind,
beginning a new day, while closing the door.

Written by:
Karen Palumbo
Photography by:
Robert Palumbo
7/28/2009 © All rights reserved