The door sways on unsteady hinges
Creaking quietly out of slumber
Brown eyes, bright with laughter
Peep into dark rooms
The red flash of a swirling skirt
A jingling of bangles, anklets tinkle
Bright chimes call out
Unruly curls tumble, trailing loose ribbons
Small footsteps trip lightly
Awakening the old house, its old people
And all their forgotten hearts.
10 comments:
Why 'forgotten hearts'?? I know i shdnt be askin people to explain their poems, but help me out will ya :-)
Who's the girl by the way :-D
@shain
it's quite something to watch grandparents and great grand parents wake up (metaphorically and literally) and put aside their aches and pains and old age when a little girl livens up a sleepy old house.
The little girl is my niece. Now she's all grown up and talking about doing a Ph.D, getting married, setting up house on her own and so on. Once in a way I like to remember her as a little girl.
nice.....and i have a huge fera of old age... am more afraid of old age, than death
@mac
thanks.
old age - i think it isn't half as bad as we think it is. my folks seem to enjoy themselves a great deal :-)
ha ha. Quite understand ... and believe that once I am an old old old man, I might appreciate little feet that pitter patter around to the accompaniment of the jingle, jingle of bells.
Right now, I'd just smack them and put them to bed ;)
URRK! Your niece... I'm sorry. heh! (I'm quite nasty, ain't I?)
Lovely poem! Makes me remember fondly my little girl dancing through the room...
@Jimmy
I would hate to be you if you ever meet my niece:-)
@Pam
:-) Yeah, they really tug at your heartstrings at that stage.
sweetness of age
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