for Zane 

Sounds in the attic 
merge with timid 
stirrings from out
doors amid every 
wooden creaking
with just one window 
left open in this old 
house as the curtains  
surge and whisper
like ashen bridal veils 
to impart twilit mystery
sunken in the dark
murmuring unrepeatable 
secrets with the night
already half dissolved 
into hushed dreams where 
rows of pale eggs await

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