ANOTHER LIFE
Last night I went
to the house of my dreams.
There it stood,
just across the street,
waiting for me.
The door was wide open,
inviting
me to step inside.
I felt as if
I was the only one
who came here,
exploring, searching
for old secrets:
treasures lost in corners
of dark rooms,
inaccessible
unless I slept,
drifting slowly into
other times
and other places.
Another life
seemed to be opening
like the door,
leading me forward –
or was it back?
One of the delightful surprises of writing poetry is to discover a form you have never used before, and experiment with it, trying it out with the ideas you want to showcase, and generally playing with language through it. Poet Bill Lythgoe of Shevington, Wigan was browsing the internet when he found something new that tempted him to have a go.