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Cabin Sweet Cabin MAG
Therush of life
Slows
To a trickle
Here.
Remnant carpet
Rusty showerfaucets
Insects exerting a last
Breath of energy
Before droppingdead
Upon the floor.
Here
You overlook
The outdatedcurtains
Exposed insulation
Receding shoreline
And focus upon
How thewind feels
Like water
Running across my cheek,
The heron
That pays avisit
To a dock
Harboring only
Memories,
The familiar musk
Oflake water
And rotting wood.
Here
My heartbeat
Slows;
Standinglike a beacon
Throat to the sky
On the open
Water.
© Anonymous
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JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 2 comments.
Mel's Cabin said...
on Mar. 3 2011 at 5:22 pm
Thank you for this sweet poem. It's so discriptive.
Clementine SILVER said...
on May. 16 2010 at 3:26 pm
I come from a tiny Alaskan community in the middle of the woods. I can definitely relate to this. It reminded me of how much I love my life here. Thank you for writing it, I cannot find the words to tell you how much I adore this piece.
