Empty Spaces

CEDAR chest of records in the attic:
RUMBAs, Bossa Nova, sheets of sound,
WIDOW enjoyed the listening, but her husband queued them up.
TITHE of memory has tripled, the present will soon be tithe.

ISSUE there was none for them, are the memories her children?
MOUNT Yesterday recedes, is all to be downslope?
OVOID remembrance; might it hatch a new life?
SANER ramblings unsettle less, yet are uncharged with hope.

WOMAN fumbles through the actions of the morning, toasts a
BAGEL, makes the coffee, always too much coffee for one.
SUPERimposesd are scripts and sounds with him.
ARISE. Somehow walk into an empty day, and wonder if its spaces might fill again.

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