Candlelight, that musty smell
A book - perhaps the one that fell
Like the tree outside, her name unknown
Crashed to the ground - on ice was strewn
The window is much different now
A view less filled with life
Though bats and birds are flying 'round
Her image plagues my mind
But anyway, that book that fell
Revealed mold
It was that smell!
I picked it up and blew the dust
Its color that of old, red rust
"Meditations" read the cover then
With markings of a fountain pen
I sat it down, my tea cup tall
And thought how trees
Are the most stoic of all