A history of loss and light
“We open our eyes and stare at the coiling darkness,
And enter our dreams again.”
. (Conrad Aiken)
The wooden handrail on the stairs,
first used by your great-grandparents,
shines like a mirror that accepts
but won’t reflect the lives of
those who went before and those
who’ll be here after we are gone.
The portraits on the bedroom walls,
now solemnly dressed in yellows and browns,
are like our crumpled morning sheets,
our kisses and our laughter:
A history of loss and light,
caught in the falling of leaves.