The House

1.

 

Outside the window, the late evening,

silence wanders through the house.

The walls reflect shadows,

dancing of the candles.

What is this, indeed?

What year, what century?

Who closed the ancient doors?

Who hung the velvet curtains?

Sounds have awakened in silence,

flames of candles again in flight.

 

You come to me.

«Ah, forgive me, but why are we here?»

«I do not know, but it is necessary.»

«What is this house?»

«My dream.»

«Who lives here?»

«Are you glad to see me?»

 

We went towards each other

for many years,

in storms and thunderstorms.

 

«Please do not cry.

We are already together.»

«How lovely these roses are!»

«Roses for you — for my bride.»

 

All has begun to whirl,

having dumped the weight

of sorrows and troubles.

Suddenly, the Mistress of the house

has come, charming Muse!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

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