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Jun 2017
The dirt of dusty decades
Lies upon the lath
Beneath a piece of plaster
I found a photograph

They smiled from the centuries;
Those mysterious three
Sent the musty memories
A message meant for me

Sara’s grave is gone, I guess
So long since laid low,
Yet, despite her ancient death
She smiles and waves β€˜hello’

I cannot tell Annie’s age,
The words do not say
The owner wrote only names
Her face has frayed away

The baby in the buggy
Lifts a lively hand
She sits between her sisters
Beside the shining sand

This will be the only piece
From the dust so brown
That preserves their memory
Once we tear this house down
The story of an old daguerreotype I found inside a wall. The house was being demolished.
Marye Minstrel
Written by
Marye Minstrel  20/F
     ---, Lizzie, NV and Me DΓ­az
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