the hinges of the hidden door
groaned slowly with time’s passing.
then the room, the open window’s
breath of wind faint upon my skin.
the soft yellow morning light
magnified the grey layer of dust
astonished by the memory of years.
the hinges of the hidden door
groaned slowly with time’s passing.
then the room, the open window’s
breath of wind faint upon my skin.
the soft yellow morning light
magnified the grey layer of dust
astonished by the memory of years.
Awaiting the Images 