Who Knows? (Day 132)

 

Who knows if the lilacs bloom, still, 

underneath my childhood window, 

or if that glass itself remains in place?

Who knows if the fossils fall like rocks 

onto the beach from the face of 

the sandstone cliffs, shells closed 

around their ancient secrets?

I am not so very old—not old at all, 

in fact—but the world that I grew up in

is long gone.

And sometimes when I think of it, I mourn 

the loss of silence, and the world 

I live in now, well, I mourn for this one too, 

maybe more so.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six