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

The Mag