Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Importunate memory.
Tugging eternally in the deep space beneath mind. Cramped in a single bed, covered in dirt, speckles of green grass imprinted on pink fleeced knees.
The old farmhouse creaks and drafts imbue every corner of every room.
Fingertips of ice, purple from the winter engulfing the house on the hill.
A supermarket bought storybook is brought to life with his voice.
She stares up, fascinated by the golden gilded binding.
The apple tree shivers in an unrelenting wind.

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