The sun sets on the tracks turning them into straight
lines of salmon steel reflecting the day’s end.
We pause at that inverted “v” where perspective
tricks us into thinking we’ve come such a very long way.
I walked in the snow with the pup at my side.
Running my hand across the gate impulsively,
I licked the snow on my knitted mitten–
surprised to recognize the distinctive
yarny taste of winter.
What stories could you tell of the eyes
that looked your way?
Of the hands that touched your bright colors,
of the cracks that scar you today?
An old house with an old soul keeps secrets
of happiness and fears.
Kaleidoscope of memories that gather
and collect the years.