Sunday 18 October 2009
21:38 | Posted by
Dale Darley |
Standing back from the road, I can see my home, tendrils of ivy skulk over rotten windows, embrace solid grey stones, overhead the empty attic window stares uncaringly.
Cold chill, sepia autumn light, highlights leaves fading from green to gold falling silently to adorn the frozen grass.
The front door, blue-grey, dirty from the endless stream of cars which pass it by, adds to the melancholy.
It opens to my home, exposing the warm colours, inviting. Lingering smell of times gone by, now masked by scented candles.
Can you hear the silence and feel the peace?
Disturbed only by the whirr of the computer and tapping of keys, communicating with a digital world.
Gazing out of the window I can see the rambling garden, filled with remnants of the life I once lived.
Escaping from my other life, this, is the place where friends and I come to hide and to seek solace, to sip a chilled white wine, to chatter.
I have loved it here, I disengage, let go, pass on, fill with memories, my home, only bricks and mortar, to a future which lies elsewhere.
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