The First Morning After
That first flight of stairs
trod on by 500 years of footfall,
stones worn, and sunken like
saddles, shaped to cradle each foot.
Her old house holds old memories.
She makes her way down the stairs,
care always, unsure of the uneven risers,
and reaches the hallway where
his hat and coat always hung,
and then she remembers that
he was never coming home again.
written for I.) PA’s AprilPAD Day 5: “The First ___” and II.) Day 5 NaPoWriMo “Replicate the shape of another poem” and III.) The Poeming Day 5: Dark Fire. The featured photograph is my own, first published on Unsplash. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter © Misky 2021