The little girl stares at me from the album,
her smile remaining steady as
I flip the pages steadily.
She resides in a house,
I don't wish to visit anymore.
A house where age old laughter
still rings from the corners.
Where stories emerge from
under the bed, at bedtime
and the demons fail to appear.
Where somehow the sorrows,
just need a smile to disappear...
And as one walks down
the aisles of this house,
one can't help but want to go back.
But treading on shattered shards of time,
has never been worthwhile, has it?