Sunday, June 28, 2009


Walk down the empty halls--look through the windows on the doors of the rooms.
Rooms of the place you spent over half your life.

Hear the noisy chatter.
the laughter.
young voices (energized, yet distant).

a faraway melody.

See the portraits on the walls.
Each represents a show.
And those with rows of children.
Children who left behind this place and went out into the world ("Grow up. Move on. Away from the innocence you started with.")

Nothing but a name on a wall now?

Oh, no. There is more.

The past is still moving.
If you listen.

It continues.
Back to where we used to be.

Hear it. Feel it wash right through you.

Walk some more. Up the stairwell.

They're surrounding you.
Hear them now?

That noisy chatter returns.

The spirit remains.


  1. I loved reading all your poetry ono here...really nice work!

  2. this is how I feel when I'm at school during the week doing work for Mr. Jardine hahaha
    Good job love :)