The Memory Dance…

707987191_7f167abc1dDeep in the woods
down a narrow path
she waits for me..
(Her door is always open..)
even in daylight
shadows fall
on her wooden floors
seeming to dance….
a faint  smell
of honeysuckle
and wild rose
enter through windows
on a gentle breeze.
she knows me well.
I visit her often.
I drink cold water
from her spring
in grandmas tea cups…
i light candles
and burn wood
in her fireplace…
As poems flow
from her old walls
like conversation..
one must listen close
to hear
memories dancing…

~ by connetta on November 13, 2008.

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