Write a poem about this picture.
Like empty arms reaching back in time
the vines crept through the pane-less windows
of the old abandoned house seeking signs of life,
finding only echoes of days gone by.
The high-pitched laughter of toddlers in the bathtub,
whispers of youthful conspirators from the porch,
mommy and daddy voices raised in anger in the bedroom
followed by soft, satisfied sighs of reconciliation.
And grandpa’s lullabies…
Lost in grief, the vine sags and weeps,
its sorrowing leaves covering the floor
in a final, fluttering embrace.
(repost from 10-29-14)