Flashbulb

He looked over his shoulder
At the sound of some rummaging through boxes.

Claudia come down stairs and cheer up--

His chair creaked in that old familiar way

--Won't you?

But only sounds of displacing
Bric-a-brac from upstairs
Kept on--no reply.
Come on, now, old girl.
So he lurched forward
To put his hands down on
The arms of his chair,
Get his balance and
Advance toward
The foyer.

Hey!

He fastened his hand to the banister and made his way, slowly, up the stairs.

Please don't come in, papa--for i can't begin
To explain my business in these boxes!

Ok. Ok. Ok.
But you'll have to come down sooner or later for supper.

Fine, then.

You know, Claudia, I shouldn't mind refreshing my memory
Of some of her old things either.

Refreshing, but what for. The greater part of your life was spent with her.

Sure. Sure. The memories, though, Claudia, they change around
Relocate.
They need to be tuned sometimes, too.
Just like the old piano in the living room.
And. You can vouch for me that that old thing hasn't had a tune in years.
But then again. Then again it still plays marvelously.
It can carry a tune that is.
One we might not recognize at all if it were properly tuned.

These old things though--

--Yes?

[y]