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literature

Whispering Halls

sunlightdrop's avatar
By sunlightdrop   |   
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Published:
Sarah, Sarah, it was my name
how it was said, I still remember
clearly
the way it rolls
running towards me
eyes shining
' Look at what I made' - it would say
holding in its embrace
wonders of a child.

Tiny pit-pat, echoing in these grand halls
it seeks for me
my name, my ever dearly name
left behind its imprint
on these high ceiling

soft and fragile, the fluttering of one lone butterfly
painted its presence on the marble canvas

and like a broken record,
these walls play its melody
of laughter, sounds and voices
whispering 'once upon a time'

doors are no longer opening and closing
granting entrance to a traveling name

morning is no longer giving greetings
waking up a sleeping name

Because these walls are no longer smiling
childish wonders no longer littering the floor
as silence taken over
there's only quiet murmuring
plus one wandering ghost
left, behind.
© 2012 - 2020 sunlightdrop
the halls still whispering in my ears.
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