Moonlight glints off the age-old banister.

Forward yearning beam refracted in the shattered mirror.

Tattered tapestries tell of times gone by.

Now laughter is only a dim memory.

A drop of clear substance dances with grace.

It splatters on the ruined fireplace.

Like a teardrop, it flows

Where once with warmth the embers did glow,

Now only dank, cold stone remains.

Nights where we used to sit watching the rain,

Cocooned in the softest silk and satin brocade,

Sipping on mother’s cool lemonade,

We would share our most intimate thoughts,

And no secrets lay between the knots.

Now those moments have lost their gleam.

We were but a short-lived dream,

Too innocent and naïve to recognize

The temptations and dangers of our demise.

But I must put away the past where it belongs

For it is passed time I could right wrong

In the memories that haunt.


About Jean C Wong

I am a world traveler, writer, photographer, and teacher. I've lived all over the world and speak 5 languages.


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