The House...

by John Smallshaw
(London, England)



Nobody understood her the way I did..
..those dark brooding looks,
the winds that whispered her name..
..the always opening door.
I wanted it to stay like this forever..
...but time took its toll..
..and yet even in her ravages,
I could see her beauty and loved her all the more.


(inspired by a poetry prompt)

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