THE HOUSE
Dusty corners and
cobwebby stairs
Furniture in dusty
plastic waiting for a new home
Old newspapers stacked
and bound
Recycling, re-using,
re-inventing what was to what could be.
The faintest whisper of
children’s voices
As they laugh and jump
down the stairs
The rustle of a wedding
dress as it is pinned to fit
A newly blushing bride to
be
Who now lays dormant and
gone.
Her memories lay with
her----husband tall and charming;
Three curly haired girl
children now lay as cold as she.
The house stands ready
for new things around the corner
It lays in wait for those
sweet, small voices, those tiny steps.
It wants to see the
floors swept clean, the cobwebs torn down,
New things—new memories—new
people to live, make mistakes, fall in love,
Yell, shout, make sweet
smelling food, dirty up the kitchen floor,
Snuggle in for a cold
winter’s night;
Take out the flashlights
to camp in the backyard.
There will always be this
place. The people may not remain
But the LIFE will.
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