Is it the tread upon the staircase, steep, uneven,Recognition instinctive to the one which makes a sound? Is it a feeling of those who’ve trod the steps before Echoing times of joy and merriementin song?I think I hear conversations seeping through the wallsLike whispers that cocoon this ancient spaceSoftness with comfort lingers Suggests I slumberContinue reading “The house which tells a family’s story”
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Ruth Partridge 