Home

 

House


Your black faced stone,

Roughly dressed and dusted

in coveted smoke.

makes me sad to see you. 


Taken from another place,

another not too distant time,

Heavy history transported,

Dismantled then rebuilt.


Dense with stories and breath, 

You weighed the trailer down. 

The builder took you away, 

Furtive like, contraband. 


                                                   -





 



No comments:

Post a Comment

We are Memory

  How far back can we remember ?  One hundred years ? I wasn't around in 1925 and my family talked about the Second World War all the ti...