In a dark little room sat a lonely old man
On the hard unforgiving floor
How he got in there he could not remember
For the room did not have any doors
The dark was thick, heavy, alive
Were his eyes open, or closed?
Very briefly he pondered this question
Till the thought flitted away, a stray ghost
Just one of a myriad of random images
Ideas, memories and thoughts
That flowed ceaselessly through his brain
A surreal river on an uncharted course
Oft his fancy would turn to the past
For in the darkness absolute
There was little else to occupy his mind
But waning recollections of his youth
Like faded watercolours the images appeared
Remnants of a time before despair
Riding a horse in the afternoon sun
Eucalyptus smell heavy in the air
Dancing around a new years eve bonfire,
So many new years ago
The grown-ups watching, smiling, talking
Their faces steeped in deep shadow
Vague memories of his childhood friends
Their names long lost to the past
He wondered if any of them still somewhere lived
Or if he indeed was the last
Horrors of war rose to his mind unbidden
The bloody deaths of his comrades-in-arms
Hastily, hastily he dragged his mind away
Stifling tears, fingernails digging into his palms
Casting his mind to happier times
The day he met his beautiful bride
The way her auburn hair burned in the sun
Kindled by her inner fire
Moments of happiness flickered and fluttered by
A long life of wedded bliss
Long talks about nothing and the children they raised
The shiver in his spine each time they kissed
Watching and aiding his children to grow
Teaching them to read and to write
Watching with melancholy as they left the nest
As young adults, filling him with pride
Yet an undercurrent of pain ran through all these thoughts
An agony forever etched on his face
A pain that he's lived with for many a long year
Since the day his Belle passed away
He came home to find her lying on the floor
Pale and drawn as a moveless ghost
He never forgave himself for going out that day
For not being there when she needed him most
So his children had moved on, his beloved wife was gone
Leaving him alone, with nothing but time
Time to sit, to remember, in this dark room
Time to sit, to remember, to die
***
May your Holiday's be ever MERRY,
Your apple cider always PIPPIN hot,
May SAMta alway bring you what you want,
And your Christmas Tree always be GREENLEAF!
***
DaisyTook Princess of Windigate
Posts: 1864
(12/18/02 6:34 pm) Reply
Re: In a dark room
That's a great poem.
The Queen of Windigate, Daisy Took. The King, is Legolas Greenleaf.
But wonderfully written
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