From a Distance
I can see the house now –
Sitting still and framed,
(Like a freshly dusted picture)
Clearer than the day
Between the woods and fields,
Her white walls stand alone –
A quaint and quiet symbol
Of purity and home
Unmoving though her body is,
Yet moving all the same,
She whispers warmly of the past,
Inviting me to come again
O how I long to touch her still –
To enter in and have my fill;
To taste that sweetness known before,
And drown my sadness at her door.
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