WALK ALONE

passium Deactivated

vintage blog

I walk alone each night

On cold, country roads.

No one calls my name.

No one cares to stop.

I walk alone each night,

Hoping to find the one for me,

The one who calls my name,

And who cares enough to stop.

THE WHITE PICKET FENCE

coiour-my-world:

Autumn Fence, Woodstock, Vermont

A walk down a country road,

not knowing what it may hold.

Leaves crunch loudly beneath my feet,

walking fast is no easy feat.

I need to get home to make dinner,

I’d hoped the walk would make me thinner.

But I need to slow down and breath the air,

as sweet as cotton candy at a fair.

My steps follow the white picket fence,

the other side makes me cold and tense.

The huge dog jumps high in the air,

his eyes white dots on his black hair.

He whimpers and walks closer to me,

his dark eyes as wide as can be.

He lifts a large paw to the gate,

as I slow down my frenzied gait.

I stop in place to pet his head,

I know I have just made my bed.

I will now be home late for dinner,

but the dog knows I’m still the winner.

I have stopped to smell the flowers,

I’m refreshed with superpowers.

I race home with new resolve,

no more time puzzles to solve.

WALK ALONE

passium:

vintage blog

I walk alone each night

On cold, country roads.

No one calls my name.

No one cares to stop.

I walk alone each night,

Hoping to find the one for me,

The one who calls my name,

And who cares enough to stop.

STOP TO SMELL THE FLOWERS

coiour-my-world

Autumn Fence, Woodstock, Vermont

A walk down a country road,

not knowing what it may hold.

Leaves crunch loudly beneath my feet,

walking fast is no easy feat.

I need to get home to make dinner,

I’d hoped the walk would make me thinner.

But I need to slow down and breath the air,

as sweet as cotton candy at a fair.

My steps follow the white picket fence,

the other side makes me cold and tense.

The huge dog jumps high in the air,

his eyes white dots in his black hair.

He whimpers and walks closer to me,

his dark eyes as wide as can be.

He lifts a large paw to the gate,

as I slow down my frenzied gait.

I stop in place to pet his head,

I know I have just made my bed.

I will now be home late for dinner,

but the dog knows I’m still the winner.

I have stopped to smell the flowers,

I’m refreshed with super powers.

I race home with new resolve,

no more time puzzles to solve.

PURPLE OASIS

coiour-my-world

Infrared photo.
Wolni Lake in the North-West of Hamburg by Michi Lauke

An oasis for me.

Under a purple tree.

Leaves fan my tired face.

Far from the human race.

The view takes me away.

Where the happy can play.

I close my heavy eyes.

To shut out all the lies.

OUR GAMES HAVE JUST BEGUN --- THE DEAD GAME --- PART 31

Off to the gingerbread house we go
On this fine fall day.
The country road yawns before us,
Pointing the way with pebbled arms.

Shana is laughing up a storm,
Similar to the one building around us.
Swirling gusts lead us by the hand
To a cottage made not by man.

The house floats in a dewy gauze of its own,
Shielded from any attacks or storms.
It glistens and shimmers in the fading light
As we draw closer to its unfailing might.

The front door opens at our approach,
An extended arm our only invitation.
I want to leave but Shana says,
"Linda, let's see who lives inside."

Before I could answer she walks in,
Leaving me alone in the dying day.
Pebbles unearth themselves in my direction
Until I'm forced to seek shelter from the storm.

An older couple wait for us inside,
Wearing clothes from days long gone.
They show us around their unusual home,
Where rooms are shrines to their grown children.

We are led to the attic to find a lone rocking chair,
Facing the forest and deserted country road.
The woman explains they are The Watchers,
Watching over the town for errant vampires.

My ears are ringing and my heart is pounding
As I listen to her words in disbelief.
She says there's always a Watcher in the rocking chair
As the chair begins to rock on its own.

We flee the scene of our worst nightmare,
Determined never to return to this awful place.
We don't know whether to believe her story,
But the chair did begin to rock in its place.

Our games have just begun.

THE DEAD GAME

A WALK DOWN THE ROAD

Let’s take a walk down the road.
A road that is bordered on 
both sides by flowers.
A cobblestone road
leading down to the water.
Beautiful houses encircle the
lush mountains around us.
Keep following the steps.
All your dreams will soon come true.