I died in this chair.
Returning
only to see the
growing shadows
of dusk
once more,
the rusted mailbox
filled
with letters
from my
child,
a portrait
done over
in
webs…
I leave
no footprints,
no tears
to stir
my ashes
mingled
with
dust
on the
creaking floor.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr.
Beyond Panic 
Interesting and wonderful words . I love it.
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Thank you. Very glad you liked it!
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