A soft-sided, well-worn briefcase sits slouched in a corner closet,
one side agape, a red lanyard hastily stuffed inside –
A row of black, brown and gray pumps line up beside it,
a thin layer of dust betraying their idleness.
Silent, unblinking a television set recedes into the wall,
flanked on either side by images of smiling faces,
shadows of nostalgia.
Stacks of books and journals rumour
a once scholarly mind.
The woman, to whom all these trivialities once
had relevance is no longer here.
She has been called to another purpose.