three story house

I live

in a three story house

tucked away in

the midst of the tea olives

whose scent makes me cry

missing the one whose

hands and back

planted them


I live in a three story house

with the books and the papers

and pencils and words

waiting to be written

by me or anyone

who will give them life–

these words what want to breathe


I live in a three story house

with the children

growing to be people

who can affect change

one day,

as they learn what 2 plus 2 is

I ask with a whisper

oh please let them learn so much 

more than sits 

in these books

let them dream, discover, build, create


let them love


I live in a three story house

where the squirrels romp

and the butterflies come for one last


before they travel afar

and the cardinals, oh the cardinals,

they bless my heart…..

the cats lounge and make it feel like home

and the puppy plays and make us laugh

while the sun and shadows dance to music

we can’t quite hear but know the tune of anyway


I live in a three story house

with two flights of stairs

from the story of where I’ve been

to the story of where I am

and then the story of where I’m going


I often find myself on the first floor,

remembering, reminiscing, wishing

for things and people long past

As the days grow shorter and the wind

blows colder

I find the steps to dreaming of the places I

might one day go

harder and harder to climb


I live in a three story house

but the first floor I call home




5 thoughts on “three story house”

    1. Thank you for reading Sharen, and for asking your question. In a nutshell, the past is a place of comfort for me (sometimes) because the present and future find me missing my parents and others who have left this world. This arrival of fall has me missing them all, and dwelling in those memories when they were here and all was safe and sound and my greatest fear was did I remember to do all of my homework. 😉 Thanks again for stopping by. Please come back again.

  1. I love your imagery Tara. Especially the line about the steps to dreaming of places I might go one day being harder and harder to climb. Sorta sad to think of this, but it feels true some days.

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