The abandoned home was a story untold. The reading glasses sat on an old parchment. I read the story carefully so as to not disturb the pages. They have sat there on the worn wooden desk for years waiting to be found.
The piano stands by the stairs and the music long gone, do I touch the keys and unleash the forgotten songs? Perhaps, they even sang songs together at the end of the day, maybe a gospel song, Wings of Dove!
It’s time for me to leave this forgotten home and as I look out the window I see a reflection in the glass. Beside me, I see a mother and child or maybe just a vision behind the thin veil.
It has been said that we should use our imagination to write our stories and perhaps that is true. I would suggest that we should drive the backroads, walk down a forest path, and find that abandoned farm.