room

Day 28 ~ Blue and White

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

my favourite colours now
are powder blue with white
and my father has painted my room
and my trike
happy to give what I like

I love the smell of fresh new paint
and windows flung open wide
it’s cosy in here but full of air
i watch the stars from my bed
the curtains never drawn at night

the summer skies are azure blue
filled with fluffy white clouds
sheep out to pastures high above
in gentle flocks they flow
wandering out of sight

in the distance beyond the trees
and the haze of several miles
is a blue and white water tower
striped, it stands, a lighthouse
far away from the sea

they are going to demolish it soon they say
I protest, I pray, I cry
surely someone will listen to me
but very soon it is gone
first lessons learned in sorrow

beauty can be destroyed
I don’t rule the world
here today, gone tomorrow

Old House

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

The trees outside stand sentinel
above the rain-shine rooves.
This house is old and stands alone
High up on a hill.
The rooms are full of photographs,
books lined upon the shelves,
twice read or waiting still,
some with shattered spines.
The carpets, worn,
by thirty years of passing feet
are faded by the sun.
Notebooks filled with dead ideas
and some of them begun.
Dark wood and walls washed white
contain this quiet place.
A painting of a tired knight
dominates the space.
Dreams are always real.

Now

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

don’t look back

may be sound advice

where should i look then

the door

the window

the floor

the keyboard?

there is nothing to see

here in this room

if i look back

i may find a new light

to shine on each moment

just passing

now