Duplex (day 27)

These rooms house ghosts and memory
They whisper welcome, please remember me.

  Remembering, imperfectly, it seems
  Little mothers, tall fathers, the lights they burn at night

Tall mothers, slighter fathers who read by candle light
Hoe a garden - dream in poetry 

    Dreaming poetry, garden tender
    Whose hands have shaped and shape of me.

Whose hands have shaped the shape of me?
Winding paths, heredity

  Heredity in storied struggle, peaceful, repetitious days
  Rising sun, unchanging farmer’s ways

I wake the same, unchanged, yet cradled in between
These rooms house ghosts and memory