The Last Day Poem by Gerry Legister

If I could wish for one last day,
To look upon the house stood on the hill,
Before the memories slowly go away,
With my suffering dream silent and still.

To see ownership spiraled into repossession,
Numb the ruffling of my glaze eyes,
Absent and deliberately abandon,
With bucket full of water images.

When broken promises in dreams turn gray,
And bleak wind whistles with a sad thrill,
Blowing a solemn tune for that last day,
I hung my head in harmony with wasted skill.

The impact came cold as unforgiving wind,
God from a thousand heavens looking back,
At the cost that lies within my hand,
Retracing footsteps along the broken track.

To the last day when I gave the keys away,
And left my house weeping when it matter not,
To feel I was there walking through the hallway,
Over the vacant floor bare and bright.

Today, I still see the house stood upon a hill,
The silhouette of shadow and sunlight frame,
Appear immortalize quiet and still,
With nothing more to offer than shame.

From a dozen minds extinguished the pain,
Shroud thoughts remained deeply troubled,
Shedding tears when I pass and turn again,
Separable as dead from greater silence fled.