Poem: In the Autumn House

a dusty, hand-sewn quilt spreads its wings
like monarchs gathered on broken bark.
Soon, it will greet the sun
through weathered, cream shutters
that no longer close.

Wood beams dangle from the ceiling
as leaves flutter like moths
into the dead room below
layering the stained tile floor
in a crispy carpet of decay.

Broken teacups tilt towards the table’s edge
atop tea-stained doilies
beside a porcelain plate of mouse bones
while the old television screams
the white noise of static yesterdays.

An urban explorer rifles through old photos
searching for lost history.
A sudden chill. Goosebumps appear
as whispers float in the Autumn breeze
under a sky of falling leaves.

* Published in my chapbook Autumn Wonders