Posted in Quatrain

8/21/13 Prompt at Poetic Asides: a poem about something in the room in which you’re sitting

Where Love Lives


With dark green walls, now painted red,
this room is where she laid her head,
was where she spent her final days,
her mind adrift in mental haze.

Her husband toiled day and night
to find a way to save her light.
This challenge he fought hard to meet,
but even dads can face defeat.

This room was filled with daily prayers
not for release from all his cares,
but for the soulmate through his life:
my mother and his treasured wife.

So in this room are memories
of love so strong it never flees.
Today, I look beyond its gloom
at love that still lives in this room.

© Susan Schoeffield

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