This House

He would always run.

His flat feet carried him far from home,

toward a distant serenade,

where his laughter

lit up hearts in blue,

like a summer sky.

Now I kiss the clouded sky;

his life in this dimension ran

its course like a plush blue

flame that licked our layered home

with anger and laughter—

a dysfunctional family serenade.

I serenade

the shadowed night sky,

remembering his laughter,

choosing not to run

from his home

filled with memories coated in blue.

The days, painted pale blue,

like a soft serenade,

with lyrics that say “come home,”

filling the bare sky

in gray clouds that run

with raindrops. I miss his laughter.

My loud laugh,

a sparkled blue

cacophony, has returned. It runs

like a Calypso serenade

to life filled sky.

His memories reside in our home.

They say home

is the heart, but I prefer laughter

that reaches the sky,

that stretches into sparkly blue.

A joyful serenade

With ebb and flow, like a river running.

This house, a kaleidoscope of red, gold, and blue,

the colors of lemon laughter, a silky serenade of love,

a silver sky running with hope.