They are long gone
The house was left exposed
Strangeness an eerie feeling
Feel hairs stand up on your arms
That house has lost all its charm
The hearth is bare, we stand and stare
At the picture on the wall, cobwebbed
We raise our eyes to the highest heavens
She dabbed her eyes, he doffed his cap
Their house, given up to country darkness
Now but a shell of what used to be
She said I still can see Gran by the kitchen sink
Hear Grandfather holding court in the parlour
He pulled up a chair by the open grate
They looked at each, passing fingers over years of dust.
Poetry from The Man Shed
14/01/2020
~The Poet’s Poet~
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