Into the Valley

Some visit there, some live there.

He went to see her
After many years

In the house in the valley
She and her late husband had built
Where they raised their children
Now grown and gone

Her house had a fragrance like apples
And they spoke of the sadness
Of her last few years
Over glasses of wine

And the intensity
Of her loneliness
Escaped from her, unwillingly
Like light under a doorway

And she asked him to stay
First with her words
And then
With her mouth
And her whole body

And she became
Not young
But eternal in the night
Motion and softness
Strength and yielding

And the solitary house
By the base of the valley road
Sat green and silent
In the morning light

As he drove back to where he came from

As she turned in bed to catch another hour’s sleep

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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