Tracks of a Wandering Mind

Poetry, stories and random thoughts from a wandering mind.

Cane, Chair and Painting

(Three tankas written from a picture of an empty grandparents’ bedroom.)

Old, worn oaken cane,
Abandoned to a corner.
Polished smooth with use,
Dusty now, long forgotten,
Its owner ever sleeping.

Painted rocking chair,
Knitted, faded shawl tossed down
Over one worn arm.
Memories of children here,
That linger like settled dust.

Folded hands praying,
A faded painting askew,
Glass cracked, stained with age,
Marked by the years on its wall,
Reminder of the Master.


September 22, 2011 - Posted by | Poetry | , ,

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