poetpotter

Another owner of my mother's original home had built a new house, and the old one was going to be torn down. Before that happened, the owner contacted the family members who had lived there and invited them for one last look.  This is what I wrote after I'd learned of the last visit. It was about that house that I visited as a child, what I remembered, and what I thought might have happened in the mean time One last moonlight A vacant house          dim as moonlight’s glow      in its west windows bare of brocade and lace once a proud house shelter from the heat and cold rain and snow hosting games of hide and seek laughter and song Sunday family dinner its doorpost etched with children’s growth a notch for every measure wooden stairs worn smooth by a hundred pairs of feet tearful good-byes at the front door thistle and wild carrot grow where civilized gardens flourished a leaning picket fence weathered down to its wood it’