The old wooden floors creak
the way old floors tend to do,
bringing back the sounds;

soft rustling silk dresses,
whispers and careless laughter,
beneath candle lit chandeliers.

Music whirling through halls,
crackling flames in fireplaces,
shadows on the wooden walls;

till the last carriage has left
and shutters dim the last light.

4 Replies to “Yesterdays”

  1. Timeless and timely, much like my childhood of 65 years ago! It was a wooden world and often candlelit, though the carriages were motorcars, but the wagons wern’t, there in Arizona, before TV and only radio. Your poem speaks of hopes we all shared then, and still now for the memory of it.
    Nicely done.

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