Main Drive to The Great House

POEMS OF AUTUMN

Oak domes gold-leafed by autumn beneath a blue sky canopy. A shadow on the scraggly ground where the stone steps should be and the great oak doors would have opened. Even when each stick and stone is gone, something of their home survives. I can see a face in the second floor bedroom, lace curtains held back, watching us arrive.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...