Guest Poet: Daniel Dragomerescu

WALKING THROUGH

The old, empty rooms

have something to say.

They remember being dimly

aware that the villages and fields

surrounding them have changed,

and the windows have witnessed

scenes of snowstorms

coming in from the east.

The time-tied lyric,

images translated during

the silence of a winter's morning.

They'd sing for you

if they could,

all the melodies of a crystal minute.

They are left

with the historic dust of past

lives caught dancing

in the brittle sunlight.