Tuesday, September 21, 2010


The passing of my days
is ticked in irregular increments
upon the door frame
separating the kitchen from
the rest of the house.
Each rising mark a triumph
for you
and a sweet sadness for me
as you shed your childhood
like autumn leaves
falling slowly
until I am buried
beneath the pile of memories.

1 comment:

  1. Yanna,

    It has been a while since I have dropped in to read your blog, and what a wonderful sweet poem I find here. I love the part of you being buried beneath the pile of memories. That is exactly how I feel sometimes.

    Wishing you a wonderful autumn,