The houses that you leave behind
become doubled like ghosts.
Lost memories haunt dreams
in landscapes of place.
Hillsides fences butterfly trees
green river snake glistens
hose water fountain sprouting
rainbow arcs sweetening the air.
Mountains of rose bushes
overflowing sweet softness
Summer sunset blanketing
warmth in gold.
speak Morse code.
The maple tree
still shines gleaming
sunlight through delicate leaves
under her sheltering branches
on the cobbled slate slabs
semi-smooth raw stone steps cut
into the hill like a hobbit home.
Mind time traveling:
Fast is forwards
Slow is backwards
Pause the camera’s recording to refocus.
Minutes hours seconds
are photographs of time.
in nature sublime.
Aging forwards is growing
not stagnant frozen immaturity.
reconstructing puzzle pieces of moments
great movements and stories.
Time is a masterpiece of knowing.
We’re the children of culmination
of Past Present Future
all in one recycling juxtapose.
The house of my childhood resides
inside the imprint of wounds.
Memories and elegies remain
as scents stained in the ever wood.
The static of lost youth
like Miss Havisham’s flair
and early sorrow rearranges
the brain’s sullen refrains woeful.
Lightning charged outdoor shower
birds chirp in multitudes
of songs in abundant trees.
Log roll down a hill laughing green.
Imagination rests in living clouds.
Our boxer puppy is there too
dancing joy shaking
her bobbed tail.
Running radiant ecstatic
circled laps on the lawn
in breathless freedom
at the dog speed of happiness.
Circumnavigating our home
with her force field of love.
The ghost house of my childhood
is still protected by her true goodness.
Things left behind are still beloved
saved in the hole in my heart.