The House is Her.
Although a roof can stop the rain
It can’t protect her mind from pain.
Her sided house keeps out the wind
But holds the ghosts that live within.
Their hue projected by her heart.
Into the walls and halls and hearth.
Inside the fabric spirits stay
Of family that’s gone away.
She peers out through the closing blind
And senses she’s been left behind.
And in conjecture starts to cast
The images that were her past.
Opal’s kitten “Macavity.”
Is granted immortality.
A flash of fur, glistening gold,
She sees her Opal’s arms unfold.
The corner of her eye , it seems,
Is where the kitten always gleams.
Once whirled she’s found again it’s just
The streaming sun and floating dust
The house enfolds her like a wrap
Tears dripping from the kitchen tap.
An old coal furnace starts to cough
A skin of paint is flaking off.
Her strength has held up this abode
She was the wall that bore the load.
She sweeps a hall, an old floor creaking.
Becomes her husband gently speaking
Soft words of love and gratitude
As broom and body slightly move
To music from Glen Miller’s band.
She feels his kiss upon her hand.
The bath door frames a face of white.
Gramps read of “Oedipus” that night.
“Professors are depraved,” he’d scream.
But raved no more after that dream.
Her son supine, a teary eye--
His beard was sparse, his books nearby.
Only Abe, knew his Ruth, Abe thought.
But found--only he--knew her not.
This precious past that she still finds--
Among the jewels of her mind.
Each facet sparkle helps her heal--
Protects her from the realm of real.
She knows when there’s a creaking floor,
Or loved ones drifting past her door.
Or when she hears the kitten purr
The house is hers; the house is her.
SenescentSun
Although a roof can stop the rain
It can’t protect her mind from pain.
Her sided house keeps out the wind
But holds the ghosts that live within.
Their hue projected by her heart.
Into the walls and halls and hearth.
Inside the fabric spirits stay
Of family that’s gone away.
She peers out through the closing blind
And senses she’s been left behind.
And in conjecture starts to cast
The images that were her past.
Opal’s kitten “Macavity.”
Is granted immortality.
A flash of fur, glistening gold,
She sees her Opal’s arms unfold.
The corner of her eye , it seems,
Is where the kitten always gleams.
Once whirled she’s found again it’s just
The streaming sun and floating dust
The house enfolds her like a wrap
Tears dripping from the kitchen tap.
An old coal furnace starts to cough
A skin of paint is flaking off.
Her strength has held up this abode
She was the wall that bore the load.
She sweeps a hall, an old floor creaking.
Becomes her husband gently speaking
Soft words of love and gratitude
As broom and body slightly move
To music from Glen Miller’s band.
She feels his kiss upon her hand.
The bath door frames a face of white.
Gramps read of “Oedipus” that night.
“Professors are depraved,” he’d scream.
But raved no more after that dream.
Her son supine, a teary eye--
His beard was sparse, his books nearby.
Only Abe, knew his Ruth, Abe thought.
But found--only he--knew her not.
This precious past that she still finds--
Among the jewels of her mind.
Each facet sparkle helps her heal--
Protects her from the realm of real.
She knows when there’s a creaking floor,
Or loved ones drifting past her door.
Or when she hears the kitten purr
The house is hers; the house is her.
SenescentSun
