Empty Nest

If I were a house
I would be filled with the warmth
Of a lovingly baked ginger cake
Mingling gleefully with the waft
Of freshly brewed, enticing coffee
Slightly crumpled, sun-dried sheets
Drapes, clothes with comforting smells
Yarn, books, crafts for the mind to rest
Within the walls, a home, so blessed
Footsteps, laughter, a quick scuffle
At sundown, closed doors, windows
Will capture moments, reveries
To reflect from bare walls
When the nest is empty

Tangled Vines

Where the vine tangles
Trumpet flowers grow in
Peachy, blissful, innocence
Sweet, balmy fragrance
Covering a vast fascade
Of suffocating branches
So in life, beauty captivates
Even as breathless leaves
Perish gently in the breeze