Sunlight shines on through the thin silver shade
Making shadows on the carpeted floor.
How can a breaking heart ache and be sore
When such beauty is so easily made.
An old photograph now softly displayed,
The past staring out as if through a door.
Staring fondly at me from times before,
The people from whom I was strongly made.
What does it take on these Sunday mornings
To find out the truth of what therein lies.
Quietly, in sunbeams and history.
The murmurings and silent low warnings
As the sunlight of the day slowly dies
Leaving behind only the mystery.
Kim Simmonds 5/29/21