A Bare Branch Broken

A cold blue room, like an ice box scintillates and shivers along the spine

Empty tranquil life passes by.

Children learn to walk down the hall

and run up the Reek in the blink of an eye.

Fathers footsteps slow, and imprint on his shoes of creased leather, soft souls laugh and play the blues, pray the rosary, too.

A hymn is sung to the limbo of unbearable loss. We tossed old horseshoes across the lawn, where fragrant pink roses grow and bloom every summer on old woodstock. Like centuries we played from all angles observing familiar patterns.