Moving

Moving

I sit and contemplate the space
now empty and silent
my voice bounces from room to room
as if searching for an audience
but only a curious tree branch replies
brushing lightly against the glass
animated by gruff October winds

in the wake of the echoes
I sense your presence
our experiences recorded
in this man made maze of rooms
as I enter each theater of memories
I mourn the passing of time
the incessant motion of life

we danced lightly beneath the
festive blinking lights
we created life and nurtured
it together into a force of
immeasurable power
we saw our faces in the mirror
for the first time
a grand adventure
with a thousand scenes
tied together with a single
slender thread
now severed

as I leave the parade
the movie is scribed onto the bruised walls
into the cold floor and matted rugs
into the indifferent ceiling
and shadowed closet corners
to be discarded by the next coat of paint
and the thread begins anew

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