That little cottage sitting on a hill,
overlooking what once was a silver place,
where moonlight guided all of the spirits to their destinations.
That little cottage
which stands lonely now,
abandoned by the Wind.
Only silence has come to claim it,
as a fading breath
slips from the windows
and through the cracks in the floor,
lying mute and pervasive in that dark place,
in the shadows behind chairs,
in the cracked foundations of the heart.
The closet door stands open,
the only words left in this house, telling me
You once shut this door on yourself
and lived here, in all the hidden corners of a child's closet–
I was the doll.
This the paper castle in which I lived my Night.
~TL Shreffler
