i’ve got memories that live
outside my little mind
and when I’m old and feeble
the good ones will refuse to die
they’ll just go on blooming
like an old homestead’s roses would
and passers by will wonder
just how on earth they could
but when the soil’s reclaimed all else
their beauty in season will show
that’s how my memories of you will linger
as the petals come and go
© Joel Tipple
It’s just a half hour to twelve
and on the need to post my post I dwell
What subject should I tackle?
How about that ramshackle
run down house.
You know the one…
that you drive by several times a week
thinking that someday you should peek
in the pane-less window
of what might have been the living room.
A wisp of a curtain still blows in the wind.
Roses still bloom in front,
where someone tenderly cared for them,
not knowing they would be strong enough to
outlast
everyone
who ever lived there.
© Joel Tipple
Write here, Joel. 