Hainted

The abandoned house at the top of the hill
-where the old woman’s dishes
sat unwashed in the sink,
her clothes draped over the ironing board,
for fifty years-
was torn down last August
with no ceremony.
When the wind moans
through the oaks she planted,
we can smell her perfume.

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About kirstenaurelius

Costumer, mask maker, tea drinker; I write a bit, and read like an arsonist.
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