Wednesday, December 19, 2007


she sat at the bus stop
and stared at the old house across the street
she couldn't see the peeling paint
lopsided shutters or overgrown bushes
she focused on the past
the children playing on the large porch
the radio shows heard behind the parlor windows
she caught glimpses of curtains blowing lightly in a summer breeze
she could almost smell the pies and the fallen leaves
near the door, large and trimmed in stained glass
she could taste the cold with a hint of pine
she could feel the warmth from the glowing fireplace
and the comfort of soaking in the claw foot tub
the slam of the screen door shook her from her reverie
a dirty homeless man, drunk, emerged from the structure
she turned away and looked at nothing

her stare
her heart



just like the house she adored

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