I’m sitting in a room
An empty room full of stories
not printed on the walls
The floor is worn wood
speaking of all the feet that traipsed
across its loveliness in all the years
before I came to be
The ceiling is lopsided and fragmented
from all the rains and critters that
seeped and lived in the home’s forgottenness
I speak at first tentatively so as not
to awaken the spirits of long ago
But then I boldly tell the house
that I love it, that I’m happy it survived decades
of whispers and cries and winds
of change
I know the room I’m sitting in
was once a living room (how strange that phrase)
filled with voices and music and laughter
but now it sighs with the forlorn and dispirited essence
of its abandonment
Maybe I will buy this house and resurrect it
Maybe I will be its savior
Maybe us two timeworn ladies can live together
in harmony until
One of us crumbles to dust forever
StoryGirl 