The Lake House

The Lake House

Midnight at the Lake house
The sun set low tonight
With daylight hours drawing in
and not an end in sight
With letters on the dresser
Written long ago
Postcodes dated in the past
a sender I don't know
Between us there's a distance
The space between our words
A paragraph, a sentence
The grey between the worlds
Black and white on paper
So simple. So defined
But on borders and fringes
Up close we blur the lines
Nothing's ever simple
With a present, future, past
Gaining nothing looking backwards
Its the memories that last
An ever errant timeline
A photo album slipped
A montage of our best parts
A directors edit clipped
A lifetime spent in still frames
For better or for worse
Each good memory a blessing
Every bad one left, a curse
Stretched out through our seasons
Our days, weeks, months and years
At the time we had our reasons
Yet the rhyme, it disappears
Lost between the still frames
With the daylight drawing in
Midnight at the Lake House
… it ends as it begins