Caretaker

An echo rings out from within my chest. A memory thumping away. Beating slowly, surely, softly. A silent conversation emptying under calcified branches held by a weary trunk. Breathing that labors for the disruptions in the daydreams.

Cobwebs hang in the emptiness, and dust drowns the spaces you left. The echos of songs tell secrets not heard save for when they left your lips. Eyes wandering wondering if that was you I saw, in a town we’d never been.

This body is a temple I had left to rot. A fool punishing that which cannot be. I struck the cobwebs, and swept out the dust. Filled the empty spaces with life once forgotten. Creating a space of ever inviting comfort once more. Yet the echos remain, of the ghost that haunts this space. Ringing out against my breathing, beating against the stone tree that held me.

Building anew would be easy were it flames instead of rot, that made the ruins. Yet I saw what remains, letting the echos ring. Letting the song sing in my ears. Why waste good stone? The empty rooms filling slowly with tapestries and stained glass. A temple made for one, and I its caretaker. I can wait as long as you need, for this is mine to give to you.