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Air of desertion
seeps from the shuttered windows.
No soul will escape from here.

An odd, clear pane
reveals her own startled face
he is where she left him

An old wood chair,
scratched, in need of new varnish,
props open the porch door.

But she trusts her instincts
and does not approach.

He is gone –
an old, old story
retold again
in a forgotten place
where small voices
are heard only
as fading echoes.


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