Twilight, that soft, wistful, nostalgic time of day, awakens in her a gentle and comforting sadness. She remembers evenings in the house that wasn't her home but had been ample enough to give room to her protective fantasies. Descents at dusk to the stairs leading to the woods. Owl-light walks to cicada symphonies beckoned by the trees that knew all but told little. Lights were always on upstairs and movements could be seen, patterns of lives of which she had no part. Shadows enfolded her as she imagined a mother's arms might have done in other circumstances and now, when sunset becomes a recent memory, her mind returns, echoing a place for which she felt no love at that time.
But now?
She has lived long beyond the childhood trees much as she lived in the house when she was young. Could it be time to return?
Thanks to The Mag.
13 comments:
interesting mood in this write, I felt the sadness too
wow...really great piece..i particularly like...
Owl-light walks to cicada symphonies beckoned by the trees that knew all but told little
and you evoke such a feeling of nostalgia but also the sadness...
wonderful writing- especially the owl-loght walks- very evocative and sad
It seems a lot of us saw the dark side of this. Loved the walk in the trees at night. She was brave to do that. The image of the owl and the cicada is wonderful.
Lovely writing.
I agree about the imagery and I like the sense of hope at the end with a return to a childhood haunt.
Patterns of lives... nice way to describe shadows...
you describe the scene impecably
neither good nor bad
Very good words, thank you for sharing
Wander
Yes, I believe she can return ...
Your poem dances on the cosmic breezes of twilight. I love the title and and the recollections of *her* life. Thank you for sharing this journey, DCW.
got me from the start to end.. nice write!
JJRod'z
Wow! Very moving. I felt as though I were living her story. Well done.
Beautiful...I especially like "owl-light"...delicious read...thank you...
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