A small entrance was all that it took
Quickly and dim went the workings
of mother and son.
Sending dust off into spirals heaven-bound
out through the hanging door
that for too long remained closed.
We dove into a wreck of shadows
Seeping into the corners, deep down into the cracks
buried and half-forgotten
Secured by eons of dust and straw;
The domain of spider kings and mice attackers.
Then remembrance came as a flood
when pink-noon merged into gray weariness.
There was a girl here once her hands time-unbound with playful dreams among these things, Small chairs, saws, and a tiny coffin She, still remains… A bone-china Lazarus Even in the sunlight her eyes remaining closed.