Patti Masterman Poems
A House Breathes Through Its Bones
A house breathes through its bones,
Its summits sit like sentries;
Though rafters decompose-
It never denies entry.
Its ghosts lie in their beds,
Soft earth beneath their memory;
The shutters firmly closed-
The past seen only dimly.
We Came Together
We came together at the window,
Through which, we watched the days unfold;
So is this our ending; merely syntax
At the cusp, where winds grew cold?
Did we lose that joy and wonder
That once so long ago, we'd touched;
Did mundane hours finally sunder-
Did I become for you, just crutch?