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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