Website of Carl E. Feather, cottage weaver of words and images / Geneva, Ohio, USA



On finding that picture I took at Wheeling Island

We walked across the bridge
to the island that morning.
It must have been more than mile
didn’t seem that far,
I would still be walking with you
if only you wanted.

You loved the old house,
couldn’t stop talking about it,
looking at it,
We talked about it all the
way back to reality.

Another old house, another walk
it didn’t seem so far, then,
And one before that,
and before that,

It is all so far gone, now.
The houses have collapsed,
one by one,
I am sure what with all this rain
the one on the island
is gone, too.

Nothing was resolved. We just dreamed.
And dreams don’t count.

Rain and tears,
tears and rain.