No one lives in this house anymore,
Long vacant, it fell into decay,
Once occupied by two loving hearts,
Now parted, each gone its own way
...
Read full text
Desolation sweeps over me as I work through each stanza, thinking I know where I am headed but dreading the destination. And here we are. Love is dead. Is there no more desolate, painful thing? Pain not arising from what once was, because in death there is only anesthetic numbness. Pain arising from a heart set apart and looking upon the fallen house, knowing what was. Knowing what might have been. Beautiful writing, Lora. So movingly crafted.
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
Desolation sweeps over me as I work through each stanza, thinking I know where I am headed but dreading the destination. And here we are. Love is dead. Is there no more desolate, painful thing? Pain not arising from what once was, because in death there is only anesthetic numbness. Pain arising from a heart set apart and looking upon the fallen house, knowing what was. Knowing what might have been. Beautiful writing, Lora. So movingly crafted.