Tangerine peels strewn across the floor

Scattered wool socks lie nearby

Scratches on hardwoods exist

Grey flaky ashes

adorn a worn out stone hearth

Dusty tables and silty sills

A web or two in a corner

Where is the life that occupied here?

Young feet that pitter pattered

stomp somewhere else now

In adult land

Discarded dog hairs

Rusty pipes

Faded particles of furniture

sit in a sitting room

Cold cracked rocker

parked in a corner

waits for a rider

Up the creaky stairs

Is a soft whimper

” Where is my past?”

She calls out

“They left me here

Because I do not

Fit in their future”

Softly she says, ” I cannot find my time”

Yet time is coming for her

Crisp scent of citrus fruit

Lingers in the air

Alone and quiet here

Silence forever creeps in

Gentle breeze comes

and escorts her

As it moves through

The tangerine peels

converge with the socks

leaving behind the bare floor

All that remains is the sweet smell

And some secret dreams never spent