Are they raindrops on the tin roof or is
it the man with the big bag
or are they his helpers, the elves
whose footsteps you hear tripping
tripple trap tripple trap - come down from the roof!
Is it during the night or
also during the day
that memories show themselves and
replace with the past where
bricks imported from overseas
have been baked from brick kilns on the river and shipped?
The kitchen is empty
There is no window with a view
On the rain that knows no end
I hold my brush and in my mind
I see the place where I thought
you would be present
the kettle is on the fire
and starts whistling
4:00 p.m. - tea time
Wow, synergy can be jjj. Magnificent poem. I could picture the whole picture of what you described. I saw the potatoes, the butter knife. The kitchen and the warm atmosphere. The colors degraded by the cold. And the coffee pot, about to release its smoke of coffee pot life. The cat dozing in its world of stamens.
#wewrite #comment
How can it be that you see what I didn't describe because I'm distracted by the sounds of little footsteps on the ceiling, underneath the roof which for sure aren't potatoes sprouting!
#wewrite #comment