I gaze upon the room, and lifetimes spent here shift across my vision.
I cross the creaking floorboards, hay-covered, and open spaces gape up at me like some wide and toothless grin.
I grope along walls all newsprint papered, fingers peeling back a layer of years, and the yellowed records of days gone by
leave their handprints on me.
I breathe in the dust of so many lives past, and their memories,
floating in the air around me, swirl ‘round and then, catching in some slanted ray, shine one still moment and flutter silent to the ground.