Old Lace

Inside an ancient window frame
hung with old lace from years gone by
And flapping in the winter's wind
there in an empty, darkened eye
The snowflakes fell in thickening form
the harbingers of winter's storm

Across the cove the derelict
old houses with their window frames
looked back across the grey wind lop
and from both sides each saw the same
a gauzy view through ancient lace
that women left there in this place

A time when quiet lives were lived
without too many fears or cares
a time when silence didn't reign
supreme and there were people here
to make the cove into a place
with human voice and human face


Wayne Taylor Bonavista, NL