On a street dubbed Greenbriar
still ages the house of my youth.
The home with a white stone porch and red roof tiles
where my teenage years took on new attire.
How cling-free were the moments
following a rain storm passing
while I lay awakened, sensing
a new-born day affair
suspended in the rain’s remains
serenading me with intermittent solitude
drip by drip
from the window’s upper lip
to the red roof tiles below,
solacing in nature’s cocooning of private moment quietude
- June 23,2006
Ben Gieske
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-home-with-the-red-roof-tiles/
