There was song here once,
…and dances filled with wanton abandon.
We loved the same way,
…uncaring of consequence or future obligation.
Each room bloomed with memories,
…roses found from foyer to bath.
Now, rot rules this ruin,
…a shell of dust and vines
even the ghosts have abandoned,
…where only the wind is heard.
.
Found in the prompts of Margo Roby who asks
for the use of the word “Abandon” (which led to
an extensive exploration of images of abandoned
places), and Samuel Peralta at Diverse where he
wanted a story in 55 words.
Awakened Words 
how fast things turn eh? it can happen when the flame burns so fast and hard….
Hey, this is GoooD! I envision all sorts of images in this 55…one such is of the old farm house, where only the wind is heard. Another–for me–is a life which has been lived for nought.
Thanks for visiting 4th Dimension…
One can only hope that the relationships fared better than the structures that hosted them. This is a hauntingly beautiful piece.
Exactly. I am hoping that the family simply moved away. Otherwise the sadness is too acute.
Mark, this poem is beautifully paced, a great response to the two prompts.
I liked that you used wanton abandon, and then tied it up with abandoned, that seemed to tie things together
I really love how you paint the loss into the character of those empty rooms. I see a film moving – probably in black and white of an old empty apartment
..’from foyer to bath’ I like…nice approach for the 55 ..
…my film moving is in color and it’s of a cottage with a fence around it 😉
I do think what happened in a place continues in the fabric of the buildings, long after the inhabitants have gone. Lovely – because the buildings mourn too…
Hmmm ghosts on the wind. Seems we were on the same train of thought this week. What freedom to love like that, with no worry of obligation. Live in the moment.
The comments are especially fun to read, this week. So, as long as we are doing first thoughts: colour, Game of Thrones. I have no idea but that’s what my brain responded with as I read the poem.
…a shell of dust and vines
even the ghosts have abandoned,
…where only the wind is heard
I love the loneliness and emptiness evoked.
Beautiful portrait of aging too soon and too fast to support life.
oh heck… what a change of mood…from the warmth of dance and song and roses to the cold of things that were and loneliness…well played..
Mark…
Marvelous symbolism My Friend.
Loved your melancholy 55
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Have a Kick Ass Week-End
Your verse is like a Polaroid, where the memories go – as he photograph develops – from nostalgic gray to the starkness of the real
..the wind blew the rose petals away long ago… Nicely haunting.