Looking into Time’s Mirror

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These old bones gaze on those old bones

filled with memories intertwined in each room.

Looking into a mirror of the past I wonder

if those old bones have memories…

of love and laughter in each room?

I open memory’s door to a dim view.

I see us all crowd around as we listen to

Mom reading stories enriching our minds;

instilling values and morals never forgotten.

This broken down pile of bones still stands…

Seventy-four years later it remembers my birth.

In the back bedroom, I came into the world…

A bouncing baby boy with a life of wonder ahead.

Now looking back, I see an old house;

A stack of bones, not unlike my own;

Still here // but for how long I do not know.

As I look into times mirror, I see what was…

A life full of joy and pain filled with memories.

Do houses remember that we have been there?

How much longer will I remember?

Masontown - Roth house 2 (2)

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Bjorn asked us to use conceit in our poem. Conceit in poetry uses metaphor and extends it by comparing and interwining two unlikely subjects in juxtaposition with each other. I took a trip down memory lane to the house where I was born. It is now old and run down, un-cared for and overgrown. These are some of my thoughts as I remember my visit there a couple of years ago.

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65 thoughts on “Looking into Time’s Mirror

  1. It must have been a moving experience to revisit your childhood home. I love the comparison between the two sets of ‘old bones’ – that’s so effective! I do believe buildings have memories: why else would we get that haunted feeling when we visit an old church, or castle, for example?

    Liked by 2 people

  2. This is incredibly deep and poignant, Dwight! No doubt houses have much stored inside of them. I especially resonate with; “Looking into a mirror of the past I wonder if those old bones have memories.”💝💝

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I absolutely loved this, Dwight. The old house of my childhood still stands, and is still home to new wayfarers. Any time I see an old abandoned house, I long to hear what the walls could tell me. So many stories there. Thank you for sharing, Dwight. You did it eloquently.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Beautifully done, Dwight, a heart-tugging look at life, memories, and what will be left finally at the end of the day: the conceit of the house where you were born perfectly expresses these bittersweet emotions of the moment.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. It’s a poignant thought, how the “home” in the black and white picture has become just a “house” now. A beautiful, evocative poem. Can imagine what a moving experience it must have been to see your place of birth standing tall yet lifeless, without a soul within to keep it nourished.

    Liked by 1 person

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