Home » Poems » Doris Culverhouse » Boot Scrapes

Boot Scrapes

The wax drips slowly down the hardening ripple
Hours pass by as a second, I hear:
.     crickets
        birds
         the wind
            water drips
              fingers tapping against the chair

The shadows have closed into night
        My candle has long ago burned to ash
          I hear silence on the porch
              Your boot scrapes are missing
                   Signaling the end of my day

No need for roast and carrots cooking 
          Your boot scrapes won't come home anymore...

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Dean Masciarelli

Date: 9/2/2010 7:48:00 AM

Hi Doris this is exceptional poetry reminding all of us that the silence can get the best of us if we allow it too. But this is such a profound write thank you for sharing your heart strings through your soul prints with all of us here in the poetry community,Please feel free to also visit me at my other site there are pictures of me and also my family. sincerely Dean www.poetrypoem.com/poet3238

Andrea Dietrich

Date: 8/31/2010 10:58:00 PM

Wow, this one is really good writing, Doris. Great description. LUv, Andrea

Carol Sunshine Brown

Date: 8/31/2010 12:14:00 PM

Enjoyed reading your poetry today Doris. Love, Carol

Linda-Marie Sweetheart

Date: 8/31/2010 11:51:00 AM

Doris..an excellent write my friend.. agree with Wilma.. sad but intense too. and thankxxx for bringing my "High Steppin'" poem to my attention with the shape..looks like a sourbet' cup.. and I am so bad at drawing too but try and this one did not even try.. wow.. somebody up there luvs me..haha..

Wilma Neels

Date: 8/31/2010 10:14:00 AM

Doris this is a very sad write. Wishing to hear those boot scrapes again a noise that might have been a nuisance in the part is now something that you are longing to hear.... Love Wilma