Vacant, as they might say,
Left open, solitudinous spaces
Swarming with memories
Of things yet to come:
A thousand legends viewed
Through mists and ghosts.
A hundred times and the
Vision flocks and peels.
The bags packed, all gone
Imagining the place alone
As we slide along in holiday time
The posters down, windows closed
A summer’s sparkling sea
Washes the memory clean
Salt purifying and in drying
Crystallises
The sun. Lights up the faces,
Shadows cower in places
It’s the theory of these spaces
Which shall keep us all warm.
To me an empty room is so evocative: all the thnigs that have happened and all the events that might take place. It's odd to me to think of places out of context. My classroom on Christmas day and the distance between waht I might be currently doing and what I did there or a place I've lived in when I've packed away my stuff to move on.
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