THE entrance was kept
in well lit corners
the rug a long dead beard
once hung upon a living face
and walls adorned in history
like the smell of something
that took its last breath
by dimmed years ago
And the boxes!  Of spoons,
knives, and busy-doing life
and one of photographs;
the stolen moments of time
caught unprepared!
Faded, raped, and torn
of once living souls from
the 1900s — i could not hope
but to find one to make my own;
then caught my eye it did!
clearly written in white margin
“May 4, 1886”  A Victorian
death photo — of me!

:: 03-07-2015 ::