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The Window Sill
Haiku poem celebrating the old bottles that stand on the window sill in my uncle’s sunroom.
On the window sill
bottles sit in in echoes.
Memories, not dust.
Looking out of the dawn-cooled sunroom at Uncle’s house; it’s filled with his paintings and hand-set mosaics, as well as curios and artifacts he’s gathered over decades. These beautiful antique bottles, hold living memories, not dust.
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2 responses to “The Window Sill”
Hello Uncle Richard! 😀
I’ll tell him you said hello. It was awesome to spend some time together. 6 days until I go back, I don’t think I’ll come for 6 weeks again (unless Jerry is with me, it’s too long to be away from him).
mxx