The Gazebo

When my grandmother died, she left me this very old gazebo, one I think from her childhood
I remember, when I was a child, I played in the gazebo, as I pretended all kinds of things
I often wonder, the age of the gazebo, I wonder about the imprints and tragedy that is held within the old wood
Memories of what may have happened so very long ago, it is my belief, to endless memories the old wood will forever cling.

What are ghosts, except the remnants of the energy, that once was
And remember, each human being, has their own unique energy, an energy I believe that doesn't fade with death
Within the gazebo, I believe remains, basically an energy recording, from a time that once was
Each person I believe, has the ability to read these patterns, even from those that have taken their last breath.

Some people being more sensitive, than others, to feel the patterns and presences from the past
Unfortunately, I am one of those that can feel, the ability to feel the energy, of the others
Some times what I feel is so strong, images from the past, enter my mind very fast
Sometimes, I am so overwhelmed by what I learn from the dead, my sisters and brothers.

I had the old gazebo moved to my front yard, very proud to display, something so very old
But when I get really close, I have such feelings of dread and being so sad
Also I can't dismiss the feelings of fear and being so very cold
I know this thing has seen things, that have been very bad.

I swallow my pride, get up my courage, and I sit in the gazebo, that is so very old
Sitting here, my abilities, are taken one step farther, seeing something that most others would never see
All these feelings, of fear, sadness, and dread, didn't prepare me, for what was about to take hold
Right beside me, sits a small child, I know this is real, because all I want to do is flee.

Wonderful Poem Lanaia
The things we cherish most some times
are our memories
I love the thoughts that it stirs may not be scarey ones
but makes me think.
Roses to you

Teresa