THE HOUSE SHE LIVED IN
(c) R.L.K.
You might come upon it suddenly, unexpectedly,
when you are out walking at twilight. Perhaps the wind
will be blowing cold, and the willows that line the old road
will be swaying, their shadows flung across new-fallen snow.
Maybe you will notice the light on the porch
softly glowing, the door rattling as if longing
to be opened, the windows reflecting clouds.
It will all seem strange, yet it will all seem familiar.
And you will walk on, thinking of past things,
of long slow days with sunlight and songs in the air.
You will walk on, while the moon rises
in the sky above this world built of dust.
