Waiting
for the Dead
Is
it the eternity
gone not gone
where seconds become days
and days become years and
years
become lives
in the passing? Is it
the anticipation
where rooms come wide
on their arrival? Where doorways
never close? And windows
open to some
greener field?
.
(words:
Lys Anzia, New Mexico; picture: Diana Wynne, California)
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