The Quiet Room

There, a silent bride and groom,
fading in the quiet room,
bereft of loving eyes to see
their frozen, colorless memory

amidst the toys and tiny shoes,
painted red and gently used.
Slow-flying birds of dust and grey,
searching for those who could not stay

to reach the heart of the sepia gloom,
perched deep within the quiet room
that stands so lonely, sadly still,
no children's leaping, laughing trill,

to light the sleeping ghosts awake,
the shadows, stretched to ease their ache,
across wood fields untouched by breath.
The stained glass stars spin in golden death

to dance with sunbeams cast aside
by curtains dripping like cotton cried
as time so cruelly waltzed away
from the quiet room one quiet day.