The Roof

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Submitted: December 11, 2014

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Submitted: December 11, 2014

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‘Twas a deepening dark indeed

with quite a few hours lead

that found me atop the house’s roof,

all but unaccountable and entirely aloof,

black cords trailing down, out from each ear

tracking the slow songs only I could hear

on a solemn night cold and still;

I’d sat ‘till my heart’d found its fill.

Pulled together and quiet too,

huddled I with blanket shroud left by you

and looked out over the houses, the homes,

whilst frightful future thoughts froze my shaky bones

and clawed up the pallid horizon grayed bark dead,

against pale pink and gradient violet- no trace of familiar orange or yellow or red-

and wavered on the whitish motes, above, in the endless black--

so sat I alone and breathed these smokish plumes,

remembering things a while back,

seeing faces I hadn’t in a while; smiles I wouldn’t again see-

even remembering things not yet made memory-

dreading the day  when we part ways,

and slosh on the dismal days

‘till come a dawn when you are nothing but a memory,

of a face and a time and a smile only I can see-

So sat I atop the cold roof and looked out above

the little houses all warmed by love,

frail wisps of smoke trailing out behind lonely cars,

swirling up and up to join the distant stars--

I wondered who each person was

Could they have been like us?

Surely they’ve lived a life too,

maybe loved a love like I do,

But who knows? they drove on to somewhere,

and left me there

and I stayed and stayed. And stayed.

‘Till all my songs and reels had played

Before at last I left my perilous perch

and said goodnight to the good night,

and left to wait for the morning light.


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