Caught In the Web

The house at daybreak Stands in its own law Awaiting our arrival As the sun rises and waits. We walk in with the wind That sweeps leaves inside, Moving a door that hangs Like an isosoles triangle. We are children no longer, But someone is walking through rooms Furnished with echoes, Which repeat like a wallpaper pattern. We left decades on carpetless floors And climbed stairways to landings Where we said our good-nights, And returned to run into mornings. The hourglass stands! We are no longer astonished; It is only a prism memory game Caught in a web of fine rain.

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