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Sunday, June 09, 2013

The Mag - 172 / Walled Memories

Charleston Farmhouse Door



It could have been inviting.
An assemblage of colors
whose meaning is subject 
to ones interpretation.

I fancied a room, a child's room.
A room from long ago, 
whose inhabitant unseen
for one reason or another

for numerous years
while a proxy kept
watch over it and for
the return of the child 
grown.

But the lock withdrew
any invitation to the room.
A room unchanged
perhaps dusted pristine.

Perhaps too painful
the memories-
to be reconstructed;
too painful to forget.




Michael A. Wells (c) 2013









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