Beyond you is the mansion
Large and crumbling, the same
As when you saw it
Still crumbling, as a kid.
Inside are the keys you never found,
The slim white doorways
Through which the snow
Is always falling,
The barely retained memory
Of momentous autumn light
Cascading through the window.
It’s still there, that same light,
The same honey-gold
It’s been for centuries.
Inside are the frozen particles
Of dust sprung up
By someone dangerous in passing.
That someone has disappeared
But the dust still dances
Quiet and absolute.
Just like this, you’ve preserved
The dappled rooms of childhood,
Each angle of remembered grass
Perfectly maintained for the soft
Re-occurring march of tiny feet.
Copyright © Seth Jani 2016
Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, Washington, USA, and is the founder of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com). His own work has been published widely in such places as The Foundling Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, Hawai`i Pacific Review, Gingerbread House and Gravel. More about him and his work can be found at www.sethjani.com.