House holds
its breath,
sighs out
the seasons
whisper of
lost memory
passing of the
centuries
like minutes.
Time holds
my hand
these kisses
that I knew
our love
so all consuming
has faded
to a smile
a passing
touch.
Yet spring is
in my haiir
the breeze
untangles
knots & hasps
it leaves us
open.
Victoria Mosley 