Endings break my heart
sometimes.
But sometimes
they can’t come
fast enough.
Nothing new can start
until there has been
an ending.
This is not profound
or deep
it’s so simple
we forget
sometimes
To live
to love
to grow –
we need endings
before we can do any
of these
And without these
we are nothing
I love the feeling I get
sitting in the early morning dark
just before the sun comes up
this time is precious
to me
fleeting
dark and silent
my secret time, alone
except for my dog
and my thoughts
before I have
to face the day
the world
the sun
The January halls
are empty;
they echo
with thin, pale memories
The January house
is bare and
spare,
empty
There are no tchotchkes
no collections
no trophies
no books
no pictures
to distract the eye,
or absorb the sound
of a single pair
of slippers
shuffling
through the January halls.
Hollow echoes
bounce
off the hard,
bare surfaces.
The January house
stands empty,
waiting
to be filled
This is for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads where we are challenged to write something springing from the word hollow.
In Other Words 