Rena May Hough

STOREROOM OF QUIET

There was a storeroom of quiet,
in our house;
the keeper of the door
is old and silent,
holding the key in his heart.

To the storeroom of quiet,
I gained access,
with a question
to the Old Man Keeper,
“Who in our family, has been to war?”

The Old Man Keeper
turned the key in his heart,
opening the storeroom door
to reveal, a small wooden box
shinning like new

Not a single speck of dust
nor a cobweb to be seen,
the Old Man Keeper
took the box in his hands
holding it to his heart a moment

Then, he opened it,
there, nestled upon blue velvet
were medals from distant wars.
As he lifted each tenderly,
He told their story.

The storeroom of quiet
is no more, nor quiet
but, a treasure trough
of honour.
I’ll see to that.

©Copyright July 2002 by Rena May Hough

Author’s Note: Dedicated to Roy George Hough and Mike Subritzky; two keepers of like kind.