Gardner Library's interior will be closed to the public Wednesday, Oct. 5 until mid-December.
I used to tread over damp ground
yet seek shelter from the rain.
Those wilted lives, half-truths
fed to half-lovers, are gone.
The hollows of your cheeks
are cracked like parched earth
from years wasted needing me to kiss you.
With winter gone, she can THROW her window open wide
With spring arriving, she can dance in bright SUNSHINE.
This is what it is to LIVE without regret;
To know she can NEVER FORGET, only move on.
With BLUE above, so open, so clear and bright
In the morning, I open my eyes
Sit up and stretch, and let out small cries.
I wiggle my toes, and crinkle my nose,
And get out of bed to the sound of rooster crows.
I slip on my jeans, and my long furry coat,
I creep downstairs and out to feed the goat.
A creaking windowpane,
Pelted with snow,
Reflecting light onto the dusty, deep brown floor.
The rooms seems to sigh, pained with age,
Abandoned; left waiting,
The cold is kept at bay by a single lamp,
Filling the small space with warmth.