A single stream of sunlight comes in through dirty glass
A river of light distorted, illuminating dust
immortalized, mummified, caught like ghosts.
Paths in the light echo what the room has witnessed and recorded:
Desires, Comforts offered, dreams and wishes forgotten by the one who forged them,
but not by the room.
They are kept there, in it’s quiet embrace.
As a mourning mother holds the memory of a child taken –
sleeplessly and alone.
Her mind is such a place,
a father’s garden grows
It’s perfect rows of carrots still lovingly tended
The patterns for children’s clothes lay, pinned to their fabric, arranged on the floor
A girl gazes into the mirror of a dressing table, dreaming of a dance
and an old man’s pipe rests, still warm, by his abandoned rocking chair.
Dust in the light
Until the sun withdraws, leaving the lover silent for another day’s dreaming.