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isabella-howardPoems
An old church at the end of the road Sunflowers spill over the altar For children grown old. Alone in the pews I watch light suffused Through stained glass windows. When I was young And it was my turn They gave us roses Told us they still have thorns Because life would hurt us When we found it. Most of us did. Including me. Most of us left those four walls. Most of us moved far away. Most of us never returned. Except for me. The dusty hymnals smell like youth. The empty sanctuary looks like home. And I can still see myself by the piano The sound of my violin Was bigger than the world. When it's all over I step outside and feel the cold. I was so young. And now I'm afraid. I'm getting so old. I don't know anyone Filing out the door. Nobody knows me. I walk to the B&B. I ask for a room. I used to play there so often They always let me stay for free. The clerk says it's switched hands A dozen times or more. They say the chandelier Hasn't heard a song in years. I unpack my suitcase upstairs And can't help but shed a few tears For a town That truly Forgot Me.
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Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 5:52 PM UTC
Forgotten Title
An old church at the end of the road Sunflowers spill over the altar For children grown old. Alone in the pews I watch light suffused Through stained glass windows. When I was young And it was my turn They gave us roses Told us they still have thorns Because life would hurt us When we found it. Most of us did. Including me. Most of us left those four walls. Most of us moved far away. Most of us never returned. Except for me. The dusty hymnals smell like youth. The empty sanctuary looks like home. And I can still see myself by the piano The sound of my violin Was bigger than the world. When it's all over I step outside and feel the cold. I was so young. And now I'm afraid. I'm getting so old. I don't know anyone Filing out the door. Nobody knows me. I walk to the B&B. I ask for a room. I used to play there so often They always let me stay for free. The clerk says it's switched hands A dozen times or more. They say the chandelier Hasn't heard a song in years. I unpack my suitcase upstairs And can't help but shed a few tears For a town That truly Forgot Me.
#forgotten#town#youth#return#church#memory#music#violin#chandelier
isabella-howard
Written by
isabella-howard
24/F
Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 5:52 PM UTC
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