Saturday, March 12, 2011

in a century old Victorian house

I have been thinking of my daughter and where she is going and where she used to be. I remember writing fantasy while I stood at the bottom of the long flight of stairs:
On Wisconsin’s Superior shore in a century old Victorian house a large painting sits at the top of the stairs –
I stand at the bottom and flow through the spaces of what I see – the painting came from someplace else – yet wears a familiar face – memories focus tight, see them peeking through the dining room door? between the stair rails on the landing? spiriting up the stairs from the window to the left? – memories continue to go up and down stairs and pass through the doorways of my heart – they change in the mid-day light dripping sun rays into what I once knew

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