I'm a House with many rooms. many see the Poetic sunroom

of my life, not the cold attic of painful memories and

                      indifferent basement of crushed dreams.

There is the warmth of the Kitchen I recall  with a wood

stove

on cold Nova Scotian nights, listening to music on a radio

on

top of a fridge, laughter and tea.....and the lonely

bedroom of my youth where my first Love rejected me.......

and I cried because I didn't fit in with the " In " crowd....the

Hallway where I came and went each day,

from youth to the day I left home....banging that front door,

one last time, beside images of fallen leaves, and frigid ice.

A mere Chapter wanting to be a Book in people's soul's....

still

unknown to a publishing world of suburbs and

internet

                                    space.............................