Long ago the sun filled this old house with poetry
inspired by our laughter.
We stood right here
by the fireplace taking pictures
to wake memories and move our hearts
with reasons
to hold hands once again.

We are now alone inside these rooms
where our hearts
endure the stampede of dissolving laughter
and I find that I want the sun
to fill this old house again with poetry
that sails inside
all that we are.

Oh, if only sounds of laughter like magic
would fill our hearts with warmth
and we could be as trees
that feel the flowers around their roots
perhaps then,
we could leave these rooms.

Then we could remember the pictures
we took by the fireplace
like a brisk *****
to what is lost and forgotten
and wake memories
that once again
fill this old house
with poetry.