A-Frame

Sunday, June 20

By Lisa Porter

The window was closed on the top floor of that wooden A-frame set in the woods

But the curtains still fluttered,

perhaps it was muttered,

that someone had left that door ajar.

All of a sudden it was June,

the orange buoy in view,

where the kids like to swim out to sea.

And then in July,

the sky opened and cried

and it rained tears for days.

In late summer, mid-August,

a garden was plotted,

and carrots were dug in their new home.

September school was in session,

the red and oranges busting

from the towering Oak by the lake.

And when in October she came back,

to sit on that deck,

she noticed the window was broken,.

The curtains still fluttered,

the bedroom now cluttered

of memories that were now of times long gone.

She took off her dress,

her hair was a mess,

and laid the goodbye note by her shoes,

she smiled at the A-frame

and took one more look at the cracked pane

and then waded out to her sleep.

 

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