Isabelle

I have invaded your privacy-
the privacy of the dead.
So many books and files of your writings.
Impressive diplomas, framed letters from famous people-
governors, actors, congressmen
all  displayed on your wall.
When I entered your writer's sanctuary
my hand automatically reached for the light button.
I had no idea I would find such a treasure.
Perhaps you were writing a book on humanities.
I did not read your writings, only what was visible
to my eyes on your wall.
So rest easy, Isabelle.

We moved your books from another place
and brought them into your space.
You must have been suspicious of me.
I left your dusty place knowing full well
I would have to come back.
I did.
This time you were ready for me.
I searched everywhere for the light button.
It had disappeared.
Yes, you were ready for me this time.