He went back to The Elms.The mosaic tiles met him at the porch.
He grabbed the brass handle and pushed the heavy door.
He noted his reflection in the blue bevelled glass.
He stepped inside
...passing the mail box.
The creaking stairs lead him into the old house.
Number 14.
The door confirmed his entrance with a SLAM.
Inside he was.
Inside you are.
Collage: Culled from Sketchbook #92
Text: THE ELMS
© MARCO MOONE 2008
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