then she spoke to me,
came from abergele,
at the door all day,
learning history
of kitchens, copper pans.

talked of every day, not dates,
or kings and queens.

the bedroom roped with blue,
a smallish bed and posies.

I feel nothing here,
no lost words or empathy.

it was closer, below.

where are you now?

is it a spinette?

sbm.