Saturday, December 24, 2011



The clock upon the wall is broke,

listless hands no longer mark time.

No urgency encroaches here.

Old ghost stories-- memories of memories,

wrapped in brittle, flaking parchment

entombed in a dusky one bedroom.

Mute telephone, faded pictures cloaked with dust,

a mob of brochures and flyers gather at the door-

to bear silent witness to her final voyage.

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You have an opinion about everything else. Might as well have one here. Remember, spelling counts.