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.