Living Space
Daylight slips in and out
of yellowing curtains,
as the sun blinks.
At such times
her thoughts
appear and disappear
The old lady has planted
her mind in closets
where dreams wither,
in kitchen cupboards
where herbs and spices dust the dark.
She will leave what she can;
small packets once gardened
when she cared to cook.
It is coming -
a change of occupancy.
She senses strange feet
and slamming doors,
young laughter runs in and out
of her breathing space.
Until then, she is here
in her last chair
in a memory-seeded apartment,
listening to the history
of her tucked-away life.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
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