The Storyteller
She is so wise, I wish I knew her.
I talk to her but she speaks too softly to hear.
What she has seen in her lifetime is indescribable.
I touch her, but she is cold like the air.
Looking at her I am deeply saddened,
Because nobody has taken care of her.
Even though she is humble as stone,
And warmed those around her with love.
What a journey she has made in her lifetime!
Uprooted from her home across the ocean,
She traveled thousands of miles
And never complained, until now.
With all the grace of her creator,
She displays the elegance of the past.
She remembers the days of medieval hearth,
And will tell her tales to anyone who looks her way.
She will tell you stories of birds,
And mystical tales of leaves and vines
Columns and crowns and everything you thought
She would never be able to tell you.
Look at her, and you will see
The things she has seen and you will understand
The life she has led and the story she tells
Ad you will be amazed at what you see.
Because without love she withers
She looks out into a room so empty
And so beautiful, and so neglected
That even the plaster falls from the ceiling.
Her best friend was never far from her
And she will tell you stories too.
They look at each other with kindly eyes,
And though from different worlds, they are the same.
But her light is finally fading now.
Time has worn her through.
Her friend is suffering just as badly,
Even with angels on her side.
The ceiling weeps tears of rain,
Each drop echoing in this cavernous chamber,
While a pool of water glimmers on the floor
And shivers because it doesn’t belong there.
She looks into the water and remembers
When she has a view of the ocean
Because the trees were only little saplings then,
Instead of the majestic wonders time has made them.
She looks into the water and remembers
When daily breakfasts were served here.
She remembers the billiard room it once was, too.
And now he sees a wasteland of decay.
The gray sky is her bleak future.
Why would anyone let her beauty be lost?
All that she has loved was taken from her.
Soon her tears will extinguish her last fire.
M.K. June 4, 2003









