A lament for Kathleen
I died a little when I realized she really had gone... but if only these walls could talk.
The sun barely rose on that day I let go. I had, in my misery, banished myself from anything that reminded me of you. Gone out to the old field for solitude. A small house between two tufts of trees sat still and alone. The grey light of the fog peeked meagerly through drawn curtains. As soon as my waking mind became conscious I turned in my bed, alerted only by the sound of wind chimes clanging and wind howling cold out...
