a place so long abandoned

buried under an

avalanche of years

and agonized sobbing

and quiet desperation

oh, but to see those

musty vaults again

and gently trace initials

in the dust

a creaking floorboard

here and there, a mouse

runs, squeaking, out of sight

[what never was]

a place older,

maybe,

than life itself

you walk along

murmuring, in muted awe,

what still remains

here,

in the bittersweet

corridors of

memory