• The soft current
    Ripples the invisible lace
    And makes the fabric shudder-
    They veil a dusty brown world.
    From the window frame
    To the opaque wall paint,
    They are this world’s only barrier
    Between you and the open window,
    A forest, a road, a lake,
    A sky that is as grey
    As the dried grass.
    Twisting delicately , inviting you outward.
    Out to a dry place
    That I once loved, and do love.
    With oak trees and winding rivers,
    The land is new, fresh and clean.
    Now veiled by a delicate curtain.
    Time and distance, it appears dim.
    But not gone.