Conversations
Two chairs lean in, still warm with those who've gone,
their rust-red cushions holding what was said;
the shadows stripe the terrazzo like dawn,
and laughter lingers where the light has fled.
Beyond the pillars, birds cross the blue,
the pool keeps secrets, the brick wall keeps time;
each fleeting moment, golden, passing through,
a family's hush, a memory's quiet rhyme.
0x1...C28
