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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.
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