![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: And we remembered what we had lost
Fandom: Stand Still Stay Silent
Characters: Aksel & Berit Eide
Rating: 0+
Length: 23 lines poetry
Summary: They talk of what they had, and what they will not have again.
Other: Prompt was "Leaf-huts and snow-houses". Inspiration (and prompt) is from Olav H Hauge's poem by the same title as the prompt. [Original post]
And we remembered what we had lost
I remember the leaf-huts
we built when we were small.
She speaks in the glow of the kerosene lamp
her ancient hands working yarn
the cat curled up at her feet.
You'd sit listening to the rain,
feel at peace with the world
as if there wasn't anyone else in it
not a single living soul.
She looks up and sees
her grandson is listening,
waiting for her to go on as he always does.
It has been years since he has built snow-houses
in the stillness of the winter's dark
but she knows he remembers the joy
of making a little home and hiding in it.
You would close the hole with a sack
feel the rain dripping on you
and breathe in the silence and freshness.
The wind outside screams
and she turns her knitting
continuing her story as if it is nothing
remembering a world they have seen the last of.
Fandom: Stand Still Stay Silent
Characters: Aksel & Berit Eide
Rating: 0+
Length: 23 lines poetry
Summary: They talk of what they had, and what they will not have again.
Other: Prompt was "Leaf-huts and snow-houses". Inspiration (and prompt) is from Olav H Hauge's poem by the same title as the prompt. [Original post]
And we remembered what we had lost
I remember the leaf-huts
we built when we were small.
She speaks in the glow of the kerosene lamp
her ancient hands working yarn
the cat curled up at her feet.
You'd sit listening to the rain,
feel at peace with the world
as if there wasn't anyone else in it
not a single living soul.
She looks up and sees
her grandson is listening,
waiting for her to go on as he always does.
It has been years since he has built snow-houses
in the stillness of the winter's dark
but she knows he remembers the joy
of making a little home and hiding in it.
You would close the hole with a sack
feel the rain dripping on you
and breathe in the silence and freshness.
The wind outside screams
and she turns her knitting
continuing her story as if it is nothing
remembering a world they have seen the last of.