composed to commemorate cottage core, cherishing captivating clues
Hoem
Past boughs and brush,
A shining lake.
Drunken harbour,
Thirst to slake.
An offer bold,
A dish foretold,
This claim to Odin’s take.
A cottage crouched
O’er mossy ground.
Stolid, solid,
Safe, and sound.
Awaiting those
Who’d dip their toes
Into the fate they’d bound.
Stagnant dreams,
Sweet memories,
Wind chimes,
Chiming in the breeze.
Abandoned place,
Where echoes chase,
Imbue the ninebark’s leaves.
Admit the sunlight,
Pierce the din,
Excavation starts,
Within.
Behold the cock,
Time weathered clock,
Naught wags its wattled chin.
A fire built,
But never burnt.
Anticipating,
Things that weren’t
To be, or see, or
Meant for thee.
Swept into the current.
Carpet brown,
And orange, and gold,
Leads to bunk beds,
Long gone cold.
To quell the ache,
Left in the wake,
Of time’s incessant hold.
Neatly stitched,
Curtains enclose,
A place for those to come,
Repose.
Cat toys found bestowed around.
Kitsch prior lives compose.
In every nook,
There lives a trace,
A picture frame,
A splash of lace.
Integral keys to lakeside ease,
Designed for slower pace.
Tree flanked path,
They must have strode.
Sandy beach just
Down the road.
Must stop to gawk,
Atop the dock,
Where silver creek has flowed.
Wall panels witness
Lakeside glee,
Encapsulate
The memory.
Histories learned,
When first I turned,
My lifetime’s dearest key.
Image credit: Nightcafe Studio