December, 2015
A long, last, lingering look at
Rooms
Now bare.
The aged wood
The turn of the stair
Built by hands
Now gone:
Each driven nail a benediction.
The patina of forty years of
Living
Stains walls with
Love
Laughter
Tears.
The ghosts of meals shared
Now a faint remembrance on old wood.
Another threshold crossed……..
Another door closed quietly
Behind me.
I wrote this poem after closing the door to my old house for the last time. I don't often share my poetry, but decided to do so with this one.
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