Bygone Memories.

Enter within

the brass bell jingles announcing.

Old heads full of

memories

faces whiskered

turn like an orgy of owls.

“Who?”

they cry in unison.

Around the sentinel they sit

on wooden benches, edges

worn smooth by hands worn rough and

warmed by the ancient wood stove.

Dusty shelves, dusty memories,

faded longing, yearning for bygone times.

One jokes, another laughs,

and hazy eyes dream.

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2 thoughts on “Bygone Memories.

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