Saturday, March 6, 2010

whispers in an empty room



 She sat in the silence of the tomb
and opened the  envelope  
 now empty and torn,
though it once held
a letter written on
perfume-scented paper decorated
with lavender flowers .
She knew the words by heart
reciting them to anyone
who might listen.
If she could give them all away,
then the words may
 have a life of their own
spiraling past chimney smoke
And gabled roofs to travel
to stuffy and cold sitting rooms
in far-away places,
each syllable finding a path
that will secure its own immortality
and flaunt  contempt
for those who hear the whispers
of the wind and mistake it for
their own voice.

3 comments:

cafe selavy said...

Beware the lavender!

paulboo said...

Indeed we have to be careful to listen to our own thoughts, our own conscience and not let those precious things become influence by those that would control them for us!
I read that into the last few lines, what does that thought say about me I wonder Hmmm!

Rhonda Prince said...

It says volumes about you Paul...thank you!