Abandoned farmhouse in Svarfaðadalur, N-Iceland.
The empty house around me ticks and creaks,
A moody end to evening's gentle rains,
A brooding quiet as the daylight wanes,
The secret language empty houses speak.
What stories might this house preserve entire
In rhythmic code composed of click and groan?
Does House recall a sadness with each moan?
Is laughter stored in every plank and wire?
And how might I, a fleeting visitor,
Acquire an ear for stories trapped in time,
And wrap a tale or two in words and rhyme?
How can I tap the House's secret lore?
In silence soft the house slips off to sleep.
Alone I sit, in darkness vast and deep.
Russell Collier
A collection of words for the mind to reflect on and pictures that inspire the soul.
48 Things You Never Knew about Malaysia
http://www.kgomez.com/malaysia
Monday, September 12, 2005
Old hut
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment