Sadafuli

When does a house cease to be a home?
It is a mere shell, but it was much more
to me, to us, it was....
How do I say it?
How can words capture all the things it was?
But let me try, I will try because
I must
before the feeling is lost, and the dust
has settled on these tumbling thoughts.
That street we played in, those pebbles and potholes
Treasure map, field, playground, it played many roles
And many a day spent in breaking the rules
The laughter, the sleuthing, the vagaries of youth
Sitting by the door we whiled away the hours
protected from view by the leaves and the flowers
Bell flower white, I still see you in my dreams
I remember the climbers with fronds dusky green
I remember the dialogues we had on those steps
the gossip, the discourse, the disclosed secrets
The wandering fakir who stood there and spoke
of his world and ours and castles of smoke
In from the door to the wide white-floored hall
Every chip in the tiles, every crack I recall
I loved them all.
Ghosts in everything here, all the moments that were,
and a bed that will always belong to Her.
Four rooms where I talked and raged and
slept and cried and laughed my way through
eighteen years of my life.
What a time it has been!
It was our space, just ours, to live and breathe
To be without thinking, in joy and in grief
but now it's time to move on and away
Goodbye dear house, you will be missed,
You were home for years, a lovely one,
and you will be a memory for years to come.