Always Before Dawn


I love abandoned houses.

I love the stories

I imagine they tell.

The crinkled

black and white


of people smiling mischievously

as if they had an incredible secret

about to be spilled.

I love the rusted

cast iron skillet

mother’s pride

where eggs and bacon


always before dawn.

The worn out

easy chair

that belonged to father

who smoked a pipe

and told his children 

wise and wonderful things.

The very walls that heard

every single tear


a thousand times.

I love the stories

it can never tell

because I can wonder

and imagine

a far better one.

                            (photo by Elias Schupmann on Unsplash)


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