At home (Day 1123)

I imagine your fan humming in a window, 

the air, humid and warm, moves just enough, 

lace curtains stirring in the day’s last breath.

I imagine your porch, as it was when you 

were young, pansies in pots along the ledge, 

how you’d sit and watch your world pass by.

I imagine your solitude, oppressive after all 

those years, ticking clock a comfort and a curse, 

and understand why you refused to leave.  

© 2020 by Hannah Six