The Light I Forget

There is a light I forget to turn off
each time I leave the basement.
It is as if another lived down there;
a person to which I extend a common
courtesy.  Perhaps in my mind I see them
reading a book in my favorite chair
in the corner, sitting how my grandfather
always sat, right leg crossed over left
and the newspaper open on his lap.
Perhaps I fail to extinguish the glow 
from above somehow aware that to do so
might shorten the memory lingering in the air.

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