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A Memory

Silent notes of brewed coffee,
steam dense, yet strained.
hazy rays through the stained glass,
the rustling sounds,
of the morning paper.

a gaze stuck on the polished wood,
shiny and happy,
yet Immobile.
biscuit crumbs scatter the table,
a new feast for the tiny ants.

A home,
never so silen
missing a voice of its own
the potted soil, never dry
nor the leaves dusty.

the subtle baking aroma,
the loving shouts,
and the steps of arrival,
is a now a memory,
as you ascend,
to a happy place.