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I am the stairs.

Up, down, —years.

 

Along the banister-prison –

creaking-floorboards, bones.

 

Bury them in the silence they deserve.

 

An empty-window-world above, forever,

taunting a way out!

 

Recollects we were alive:

Struggling momentous-steps

…..to nowhere.

 

An arbitrary shadow

against impenetrable wall

serves our memory.

 

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2018 All Rights Reserved