I drive by old houses no longer lived in, and my imagine goes wild. I picture the house full of activity in its heyday.
I wonder if maybe there is a soul…and maybe it lingers after the house is abandoned.
This poem haunts me, but in a good way.
j.

A thought-provoking piece. It reminds me of mortality of men. As a momento mori. Well done Adagio! “)

Thank you, M.E.

Thank you.

I have thoughts, doubts, longings to figure out exactly where my artistic side came from…no poets in our family tree…if there were, they all fell out centuries ago.
Nice write.
You make us question ourselves.
j.

Thank you.

Lives come and go, some invisible, some sadly hiding in the nowhere found easily. But, even more live on in special places made by self-made dig-deep offerings – OR, are globally awarded in forever continuity.