Pressure makes the pebbles turn,
grinding like a cheap kitchen blender.
Swung open with an eerie creak,
to enter aged mattresses and rest.
Thought first to part before thinking.
Couches coated with a slight layer of time,
worn down by many visitors.
Supply of warmth of promising, with
entertainment challenged by a sheet of foil.
Chairs passed through to serve and fall,
like a factory worker worn down and tossed.
Through a briefly painted frame to reveal a
tile chosen to hold many footprints.
Floor that held a grey reflection with a tint of yard
To keep full, erase that hollow rumble,
and opened with a light screech from a near 50 years.
Opposite is set of shelves,
thick with white, tan, and fresh paint layers.
Panes clearly scraped to the bone,
razor blade marks on the windows clear with sun.
Above, locks once considered the best
Three shuffled awaited his once hot spot,
held the commons and fix it tools.
Constant flow of hands and front toes worked its hinges well,
forest green blended at the center to dark with chips.
Screen half woven no longer holds consequence.
Originally appeared in the 2009-2010 edition of Outside In.