**Hello everyone!!! Turns out, there is a treasure trove of discarded story ideas in my e-mail account, just waiting to be rediscovered— you guessed it, here’s another one! No way could I cook up stories that fast! Anyway, I also want to apologize for how many posts I’m cranking out so quickly, but my hopes are that maybe, if I have enough items of interest on my blog, I’ll get more visits! Wishful thinking there 😉 but I genuinely hope you enjoy this short poem. As always, if you have any questions, just post a comment, and I’ll reply A.S.A.P.!    -Kimberly**

Moving van,

Parked before the ancient mansion.

Cardboard boxes scuffle;

The first sound this neighborhood

Has heard in a long time.

Give it time.

I spent plenty of summers here

With your grandmother

When I was a girl.

Feet stomp away.

She would have wanted you

To come here.

Along the house,

Peeling side-work bleached pale by the sun.


Dead rose bushes,

Creaky front porch with

Hanging couches.

Screen door slams.

Chips of green paint fall

And disappear through the patio’s wooden slats.


Faded oil paintings on gray walls,

Maroon velvet carpeting,

Bleakness drifting like thick fog.

Dusty crystal chandelier,

Shards of jewels littering the floor.

Curving walls,

A spiral staircase

Hollow under your feet.


First room on the right

Cockroaches skitter behind

Ugly leather chairs.


On the left

Small bedroom with

Closet locked tight

No key.

Connected bathroom,

Swarming beetles under the sink

Rusty cabinet doors.

Sitting room

Ivory coffee table,

Stained glass window,

House flies stranded in torn fragments of cobwebs.

Attic . . .


Odd doors with no knobs,

Thick curtains drawn around windows.

Wooden shipping crates

Stacked in the corner


Metal wrench

Lifting bent iron nails.

Unfinished wood

Digging into hands.

Keep working.

Below layers of crushed velvet,

Mahogany box.

Nestled in satin,

A thin chain,

And golden heart-shaped



A little girl and


Hands clasped


Back downstairs

Feet thumping on steps

Full echo.

Front door bangs open.

Rocking on porch swing,

Fingering the locket

Dangling from your neck.


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