Memory of Southern Still Life
Open the window
In floats the heavy sweet scent
Of magnolia and jasmine
The memory scraps
A part of the montage
That was my first life
Ample and flawed
Demons like insects
Trapped in amber
Chiseled in granite
“Still Life”
My domain was bracketed
By the whistle from the train
Lonely sound
Heard each evening
Just about sunset
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annellannell 