Day 1577, stares. Day's pictures, Poetry I remember the house where I thought I grew up ~ there was an old chimney a corner where I played and my father closed the door ~ in my memories he was never there in reality he often stares at me standing in front of my reflection Share this: Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Click to share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Click to share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Like Loading... Related