Friday, February 20, 2009

Grandma’s House

Stopped on the street

A pause to remain

Lost in the thoughts

Of the door up ahead

 

Lift up the latch

And push open the gate

Notice the trees in the yard

And  each flower in the bed

 

The kitchen is bare

No more meals to be made

No more cakes in the oven

Or the smell of fresh bread

 

One last drink at the table

The heart of the home

Where comfort was found

And generations were fed

 

Cupboards are emptied

Of  all that they held

Old  tattered love letters

Are once again read

 

Down to the cellar

Where monsters once lived

To scare all the grandkids

And fill them with dread

 

Up the stairs to the bedroom

They creak and they groan

The carpet is worn

Where others have tread

 

Smiles light up faces

As photos are pulled

From the rusty cake tin

Found under the bed

 

The wardrobe is open

Clothes hung up with care

The moth-eaten shawl

Striped blue, green and red

 

The rooms are all clear

But the last to be packed

Are the pots and the plants

Left in the rickety shed


A lifetime and more

All held in one home

The love will live on

But no more words will be said

 

A house that is empty

The door closed behind

We have bid our good-byes

All the tears have been shed.

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