Memories in my attic

My house has a blue roof now

It was there

where my blood

spilled into words

crying out to you

It is always fall in my street

your words

used to bring spring 

but now

I only have cold winds

and scattered leaves

A beggar now sleeps

on that bench in the park where we met

sometimes I feel like him

as if I am homeless without you

then he looks at me and smiles

glad

that his eyes are not as empty

as mine.

Author's Note

Image = Painting by Georges Guerin - Montmartre-rue-abreuvoir

Reviews

[Ardra]

Such sadness...... spilling out of this one....almost made me want to cry....

Mmm only thing that made me smile is you got a blue roof house.... you seem to be turning out to be champ at finding pics... :))