Meroogal. – The Women’s Place

An untended garden
Leafless winter trees
And empty silence
Signs that love no longer lives within.
Many generations have passed
Yet the women’s place still has
A woman within.
Soft slide of covered feet
On century older floors.
Smell of old lavender, old rose
Mingled with the dust in the air.
Embroidered, creweled fancies
Tell of hours spent in dull light
Or late afternoon sun
Passing time
Just passing time.
Painted plates, ornaments
Mix of old and curious
Tell of a house much lived in
Nothing here is new.
Rambling rooms hint of customs past
Of visitors on Sundays
Cards left to say they called.
Creak of stairs from silent ghosts
History in a chest
A pantry.
Words of scandals past
Leave insights of people’s lives
We leave much wiser
Understanding, perhaps,

Tim Alderman
(C) 2014

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