What Remains?

An empty room, in empty house palpable memories seeped throughout.
As I walked through the door I remembered the couple that lived there:
Gertrude Proctor and Sydney Philips. They made a home, entertained graciously,
Music played on the gramophone, mostly Bach and Mozart maybe some Schubert now and then. She rode horses and played polo, he taught English Literature to starving students for free. During the war, he deciphered Morse code and she censored letters posted to, and leaving the country.
They had a full life and then bore three sons, two of which have passed away, leaving behind offspring caught between the then and the now. What remains? A bunch of misfits.


3 thoughts on “What Remains?

  1. this is just some prose that i wrote in a hurry, not be taken seriously, but it is about my grandparents-and I suppose what i mean by a misfit is my sometime inability to relate to the fast changing values of our time.

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