it's been this way for years

the house, it grows bare
yet fear never finds its way
to her doorstep
sweet embrace of birth,
or the end of the book?
days come to close
her breath remains calm
at peace

wrinkled hands
folding pieces of parchment
between covers
as if tomorrow would still come
nothing but the sound of the sun
nothing but the faces of white and yellow
silk and bone

slips on the hardwood floor
gentle whispers of nostalgia
this world would carry on
as her possessions stay behind

she leaves sad faces
she leaves with coiled lips

.MsAddams