Distance

And so they say no one has lived in this house for fifty years. Vines wind through broken windows and across the wooden floor. Furniture is tattered and turned over and every corner of the house smells of stray cats and mold. But untouched is the widow's walk which circles the third floor though the coast is fifty miles east. Somehow I recognize the tattered drapes as if I hung them myself waiting for light to show the trees.