On a street dubbed Greenbriar <br />still ages the house of my youth. <br />The home with a white stone porch and red roof tiles <br />where my teenage years took on new attire. <br /> <br />How cling-free were the moments <br />following a rain storm passing <br />while I lay awakened, sensing <br />a new-born day affair <br />suspended in the rain’s remains <br />serenading me with intermittent solitude <br />drip by drip <br />from the window’s upper lip <br />to the red roof tiles below, <br />solacing in nature’s cocooning of private moment quietude <br /> <br /> - June 23,2006<br /><br />Ben Gieske<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-home-with-the-red-roof-tiles/
