An Old Wife's Tale This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

December 23, 2009
The corners of the envelope, containing the war-torn pages
of your whispered love story are
like the house we once shared.
Entombed in ash and
the creak of the stair,
the murmurs of the portraits,
the pewter chandelier that
hung, hung high from the ceiling,
witnessing our days and the balmy evenings.
The windows were left open, as a
for the moths, their winged bodies floating through the air
like your scent: dark and
with the sting of a life, hard and incredulous,
but, still, accompanied
by the sweet pang of affection.

Both have long since passed.
And now, as I cup the rose petals that are to be strewn across your grave,
I cannot help but smile.

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