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A dark place
With windows boarded against the light
We thought it our personal playground
The bolted doors to keep out the others
The faceless intruders
Who scrawled names and dates on unfinished plaster walls
Rooms without number
Decaying ceilings, stairs without planks
five levels of adventure and exploration
The turreted roof made six
But then there was the basement
That fearful place
Black as pitch with rooms filled with crates
cimmerian cases of sculptures, tapestries
Ornaments to fill this monument of love
To a woman who died too soon.

ARW

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