In the winter wind, a massive pine
brushes the clapboard of this house
that has not seen paint in fifty years.
Weathered and fading to gray,
it is neglected and long past
any rustic charm. Snow is cupped
in the upturned edges of the siding.
Shutters hang at an angle beside
windows that once glowed
with warmth, but now stand dull
and lifeless. There is no bustle,
no activity, just banging shutters.
You say you hear laughter
from this house? That’s nothing
more than echoes from the past.
Perhaps you also smell roast turkey
and spiced apple, or hear dishes
clattering. Broken pieces on the floor
are all that remain of those. This home
has not seen a festive dinner in years.
And that’s no wisp of smoke
from the chimney, just snow blowing
from the roof of an empty house.
But you knew that when you saw
those lifeless windows.
This poem is my response to Poetics: Outside Looking In, the prompt from Laura at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which asks us to imagine a house with no family connections, no memories of our own to call upon.
Image source: Wikimedia Commons