So Sunlight Could Have an Altar

I am years from a child,

and months closer to winter.

In my place of roots I am still

a little girl running my hands across

wooden planks of an old garage,

playing hide and seek in its shadows,

and writing my name in dusty glass.

From the well of echoes near the rafters

the building replays my voice so it

can’t feel decay breaking it into absence.

On my dark nights of dismantling

my thoughts return to the broken structure

to reclaim my child’s bouquet of dandelions

I placed on a shelf so sunlight could have an altar.

  

In a perfect union of odd we listen

to the music only we can hear, journal

years and miles on starlight vellum,

and seek solace in connection.        

 ©Susie Clevenger 2019

Real Toads ~ Kerry Says

The top photo is one my sister took a few weeks a go of my father's garage. The bottom one is what it looked like the last time I saw it when my father was still alive. It breaks my heart to see it so neglected.