By Judith Trustone
Torrents of rain flow down its eaves,
only soggy tears, emptiness and chill inside.
It’s a house with a broken heart.
Floors once trod by children’s feet
and the scamper of happy puppies
now ghosts of their fragrances lingering in pine.
Walls once ringing with the sounds of loving
now stand lonely, empty and bare, cracks here and there.
Windows once glowing with sunlight and the glow of lamps
now gaze out grey, dull and lifeless,
looking stunned, sad, and shocked.
Once a dream achieved,
perched by a quiet creek,
eagerly awaiting the glorious fullness.
On such a gloomy day,
a mudroom filled with boots,
a pot of cocoa simmering on the stove,
while noses are wiped and
wet clothes peeled off,
the dryer clunking non-stop
before the foreclosure.
March 14, 2013
