Friday, February 14, 2025

On the street where she lived Dec. 9, 2024

  

I pass the place where she used to reside, the ground floor store decorated for Christmas, not the same store as when she lived upstairs, yet all the rest is the the same, the church yard next door, though the window she used to perch in are closed, like pennies on eyes, of something long expired. I stroll here now much more bravely than I once might have, knowing there is no threat of seeing her, except in the back of my head. She is a photograph that never changes for me, when I know she must have, seeing her face on what she posts, different, yet the same, yet not the same face I can paste up in that window, she having moved on from this world to some other in which I play no role, a Shakesperian tragedy in which we all have our brief time on the stage. The stage remains. The players have changed.



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