Poetry: Reverie

it started on a warm day’s dawn, when light like fire walked the halls
flickering across the boards scarred by the passing of our youth
cast through windows thick with grime set into crayon-colored walls
exposing in a golden hue plain drawings some would call uncouth

it started at the sullen tolls of the church bells down the street
a nonexistent song that caught my ears and flipped a heavy switch
jumpstarting a conveyor belt built of dreams that once were sweet
but now are only gray reminders that no thoughts would dare enrich

it started when my shoe put weight on that middle, creaky stair
and the shriek of worn old wood reminded me of epic battles
fought with sticks and stones we carried like the saintliest of wares
while we pretended we were worlds away from zealous prattle

it started when my fingers brushed the burnished copper handle
of the door to your old room, left to suffer time’s cold wrath
and a push revealed a childhood snuffed out like a candle
heavy dust a shroud to mark the absence of your joyful laugh

it started when I finally sat in a weathered chair a foot too small
and withdrew from my pocket a gleaming star of precious metal
whose sun-kissed sparkles spoke of deeds to which brave men are called
but whose true meaning is a curse that only devils peddle

it ended in that lonely room, forgotten by a million faces
a long goodbye I spoke to silence as a new sun rose in penance
an incandescent reverie, bright as darkness, loud as space
a wish I could rewind the world to a gilded age of innocence

9
Leave a Reply

avatar
9 Comment threads
0 Thread replies
0 Followers
 
Most reacted comment
Hottest comment thread
9 Comment authors
Anna MontgomeryrobtkistnerMishNan MykelFrank Hubeny Recent comment authors

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  Subscribe  
newest oldest most voted
Notify of
Glenn Buttkus
Guest

A very richly tressed remembrance; the Bronze Star is a proud medal, but posthumously it offers little succor.

Bjorn Rudberg
Guest
Bjorn Rudberg

This is such a heavy memory… love how you used the house with its sounds and rooms to tell a story that really ended where it begun… some things only live in memory.

erbiage
Guest

this is thick and rich. love the dusty shroud.

Jade Li
Guest

“a gleaming star of precious metal … whose true meaning is a curse that only devils peddle”
Your poem tears me apart. Your pain is palpable. So very sorry for your loss, if this is about you and someone you lost.

Frank Hubeny
Guest

Nice phrase: “a new sun rose in penance”

Nan Mykel
Guest
Nan Mykel

Very satisfying poem. I like it all, but especally the lines “jumpstarting a conveyor belt built of dreams that once were sweet
but now are only gray reminders that no thoughts would dare enrich”

Mish
Guest

You’ve truly captured the weight of loss with your words and phrases flowing. Wonderful enjambment throughout. I especially love this….”an incandescent reverie, bright as darkness, loud as space”.

robtkistner
Guest

This is excellent!. A solid write. Well done Clara.

Anna Montgomery
Guest

You use the empty spaces to haunt the heart, wonderfully done.