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patterns of ink

How fruitless to be ever thinking yet never embrace a thought... to have the power to believe and believe it's all for naught. I, too, have reckoned time and truth (content to wonder if not think) in metaphors and meaning and endless patterns of ink. Perhaps a few may find their way to the world where others live, sharing not just thoughts I've gathered but those I wish to give. Tom Kapanka

Friday, February 10, 2006

The Knock

The house
that barely lit a lamp,
content to let the passers by
believe no one was home,
pulled back
at a knock upon the door,
pulled back
the cold curtain
in a trembling pinch,
pulled back an inch
in time
to lean toward the pane,
but not a soul was there—
just footprints
in the snow upon the stair.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I this how it feels to get a comment on a blog that hardly anyone ever reads?

26/2/06 6:30 PM  
Blogger patterns of ink said...

Yes, actually... among other things, it could definitely apply to that. Do you blog? Some bloggers use their space to keep up-to-date with frinds, etc. Patterns is a bit more reclusive... My family loves stories and enjoys these--or pretends to, but I do enjoy knowing someone else occasionally "knocks." Feel free to do it again, and if you have any "general" questions, feel free to ask, but like you I prefer to remain somewhat anonymous on the net.

26/2/06 9:25 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No. I don't write on a weblog but I do read them when I have time. some of yours take awhile but I have read many. The short ones stand out to me. Whatever happened to the end of the one in the hospital?

27/2/06 6:20 PM  
Blogger patterns of ink said...

I accidentally deleted the rest of the chapters and it's taken a long time to rewrite them--too long. I'm beginning to forget what they said, but everything worked out okay.

28/2/06 6:13 PM  

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