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by Fyn Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2330665
My home, for a time
A broken mirror reflects the soul of a shadow.” – Anonymous


No Shards-- Just Pieces of a Whole


I'd been house hunting, more house seeking
searching for a place that trilled to me of 'mine!'--
Full of character and oddities,
lost, perchance in time.

Hundred-year-plus-old Victorian
with a wrap-around porch, a balcony up high,
lead-glass windows, a widow's walk--
I felt me heart give out a sigh.

Old wide-planked floors led me throughout,
deep fireplaces with stone mantels wide,
oaken moldings, pressed glass doorknobs,
I was smitten clear inside!

Regal staircase curved above,
endless bedrooms with window seats,
and a secret passageway, no, three!
No doubt about it, my search was complete.

Master suite complete with turret,
a sitting room and closet divine.
Absolutely- was no question.
I need to make this house mine!

Another door led off this room,
more than a closet but what I did;t know.
A broken mirror leaned against the wall
with reflective shards about, below.

I don't proscribe to bad-luck theories,
and the house firmly had me in its thrall.
I merely wondered about who had been
reflected in the cheval tall.

No ghostly presence chilled the space,
just unseen stories of time goneby.
The only thing reflected in the mirror was
just a shadow of a sigh.

But yes, my home was haunted,
things would be moved around,
piano music often played--
a lovely, wistful, calming sound.

The gardens bloomed that following spring
lilacs and daffodils on display.
I'd made the old house my friend
and here, I thought, I'd always stay.

Yet life makes plans beyond our ken
My house watches another family grow.
I drove by the other day
saw children running to and fro.

I smiled and thought how life moves on.
I'm happy where I'm planted today.
But I'm glad I had my time in that home
And added my shadow along the way.





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