There is this place that I remember. This place that I miss.
It smelled of dust, home-cooked meals and sheets long slept in. A home for all who entered, forgotten people on the walls.
Photographs on display, generations of love and memories. Her lover amongst them; handsome and sepia toned.
Her face ageing, her eyes glazed over. Trembling hands and sleepless nights. She was remembering, not of recent memories, but ones from another life.
Her name was Dorothy, her scent was musky.
It smelled of dust, home-cooked meals and sheets long slept in. A home for all who entered, forgotten people on the walls.
Photographs on display, generations of love and memories. Her lover amongst them; handsome and sepia toned.
Her face ageing, her eyes glazed over. Trembling hands and sleepless nights. She was remembering, not of recent memories, but ones from another life.
Her name was Dorothy, her scent was musky.
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