Dawn by E.R. Paget
Delicious light licks at the windowpane,
Piercing glass to filter and refract.
Eager it springs, darting into corners
So long sunk in darkness.
Under the watchful eye of an indulgent sun,
The shadows slant and prance,
Conducted by the light with an energetic hand,
To twirl and spin unbound.
Swathed in warmth, a room reborn,
Resurrected from the depths of the night.
Blessed it basks in the days’ sunlight
Waiting for the dark to return.
Falling by E.R. Paget
For her, it was
No risk at all,
To take a leap
Of faith so great,
Into the dark.
This House by E.R. Paget
This house has stood for many years,
Walls deep and thick with dust,
Quietly soaking up the past,
These bricks so often touched.
In homage they hum and whisper
Of people dead and gone,
Stories and secrets set in stone
Once lived and now undone.
I hear them in the quiet of night,
These occupants of old,
Slipping softly room to room
The ghosts of tales untold.
They pass as shadows through the door,
Silently they roam,
Moving meekly with no malice,
Gracious, they share their home.
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