incandescent-smile

A room.  By chance, Remember a room On days when the sun shines, But pale, veiled As if shunned by shrouds of memory. But, this!  A memory…this door More prevalent, amidst of thousands of thresholds I have traversed. Each their own, With faces, or distinct hum of voices. Or not: a door to an embrace of silence and dark. Or an utterance of chill: I stepped into that room in the deep of December And dark it appeared.  Why was the dark translucent Pearlescent,  reminiscent fog of gloom? And how heavily the fog hung over this room! What was unfamiliar, yet etched in me? What I knew not, yet knew, Yet yearned to forgo? B