
Is a house just a shelter or something more? Read and Review! Write on!
Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Poetry - Words: 408 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 10-10-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2854683
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A Home of Their Own
A red foreclosure sign juts out from the lawn
The bank said you must leave with breaking dawn
Next to the door sits your leather suitcase
Through a mental checklist your mind begins to race
As you start up the stairs you notice the pink in blue scrawls
Slithering across the living room walls
Your four old daughter had smiled and said with longing in her heart
That one day she wanted she wanted to make art
Peering in to her empty room
As silent as a tomb
You remember the night that the love of first boyfriend
Had come to a bitter end
You stroked her downy black hair, as she sobbed it wasn't fair
You remind her many boys would come in between
After all, she was just fourteen
You glance out the window at the gravel path
Where you can still hear the ghosts of your children laugh
As they climbed up the big oak tree
Hoping to get as high as birds soaring free
You wander to your son's room
As silent as a tomb
You remember when your son's heavy metal band Death's Sword
Plucked its very first cord
He said that name would day grace the Rock and Rock hall of fame
You remember the day when he left the band
Wanting to build things with his own hand
Standing on the bottom stair you see the old wooden chair
Where each child, with trembling hands, had discovered fate there
Each had learned that their knowledge
Was worth molding behind the doors of a college
You stare at the old cordless phone and can hear its ghostly ring
When your daughter had cried with joy
As she told you she was the mother of a baby boy
You pictured your grandson
Climbing up the tree as they done
You wander out the door, knowing this place is not a home anymore
You walk past your wife's abandoned patch of flowers
Where she lovingly tended to them for hours
Now the only thing growing was the red sign
As ugly as a jungle vine
You realize the building that had stood
Was not just a suture of shingles and wood
It was a witness to all the times you fret and those nights you'd never forget
You know it was a home
You hope the next family can make it their own
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