I couldn’t help the fall.

The years passed by,

Time was numbered

By my rings.

I watched;

Aloof;

Their words lost in the wind.

The children changed

With the seasons.

Rooms less visited,

Then empty.

Birds nested in their windows.

College and marriage ;

New children arrived;

Laughter.

Cars pull away

With promises to return.

One light in the room upstairs

One light on the porch.

The dog too old

To run after thistle seeds in fall.

Another spring returns,

The house is empty.

Nothing but a path to a paint chipped door

Strewn by nettles and primrose.

They are gone;

My sleep too long.

I have missed them.

Roots deep,

I cling to the  mystery

Of children’s games, and clean Laundry on the line.

The tap, tap, of my sap in the bucket.

It was the summer wind that blew me down,

Too old,

I fall

Crushing brick and stone;

Weeds and vines caress

The altar

Of my beloved.