Wise Lonely Home

By Kavita Israni-Winger

The stone is fraying at the edges
Perhaps it is old; if old is
Abandoned, rotting, empty. Cold.

The rusty gates are still open
Waiting in earnest, if earnest is
Reaching, hopeful
Calling, but never heard.

Emotions are color splattered across walls.
And the walls are wise;
The cobblestone ground is wise, because it cradles mementos
The pipes are wise, and the bike is wise
Because only those who can claim to be lonely can claim to be wise

The stains are scars; the air is hollow
This place is dark, this is place is wise
This place is cold, this place is old
This place is lost, this place is alone
This place calls out, but is never heard.

I know this place
Those are my pack of cigarettes on the floor
That's my bike leaning against the wall
Those are my letters in the corner

I've traveled the world; I've been to places that are wanted
Places that are bright, places where there's light
And places where I'm not alone

But only in this place, do I feel like I'm home

Did You Know

TumbleBookCloud is an online collection of read-along chapter books for students in late elementary to high school. In addition to the same content previously found in TumbleReadables, TumbleBookCloud includes videos from National Geographic, new Audio Books, and 44 additional chapter book titles. TumbleBookCloud?


Loading…