For Muriel

Her eyes

Pale blue

Dreamy – windows to her soul,

Her house hs been vacant for years

Yet a candle still flickers in the window,

Every time someone comes to visit,


Dutiful son,

Press her papery thin hands,

Stroking the blue veins that dart across her knuckles,

A highway of travel for the weary,


Look into her eyes and wait for an answer,

For someone to set up house,

To draw the curtains and dust the cobwebs off the furniture,

To breathe in that familiar scent  you call



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s