The hourglass had run out of sand
The attic had been emptied of memories -
Stillness rattles in my bones.
Deer frolic in the yard
turkey feast on the fruits of the vine
all their fear gone
The grass may now grow
seeds could now rise to the heavens
whenever and wherever they please
No more are the eyes watching the buttercup fill up with rain
No more are the hands anxiously tending the garden
The sundial waits in my shadow
as I, myself, am veiled with the shroud of night
My walls shiver at the grandfather clock
- tolling another mourning hour.
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MY WALL 
Lovely writing! Love the imagery in this piece. ❤
Thanks. Layla. 🙂
Lovely words. Welcome back Imelda!
Thanks, Arlene. 🙂
Beautiful poetry, Imelda. Very thoughtful too. Seems like some juxtaposition there, with how growth can be such a good thing while at the same time there is still an air of caution. It sounds sad but hopeful at the same time. Hope you are doing well 🙂 ❤
Thanks for dropping by, Mabel. We are doing well. I hope you are, too. 🙂
The emotions are palpable. Great imagery.
Thanks, Nes.