A red sign on House 11 said “Closed for Repairs’”
No need to try the bell or navigate the stairs.
The door blown open by gale force winds,
Occupants now scattered, once known as friends,
Change was commanded by black destiny’s wheel
The masked figure whispers, ”Loss is our Achilles heel,”
“Though you miss them and for their company yearn,
Bless and release them for some may yet return.”
“Silence and Providence help to make the Stone,”
“And this will protect you in difficult times alone,”
He fastens her white cloak, saying, “Remember what you know.”
“Though time is of the essence, Festina lente is how we must go.”
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