I
have gone back to the house again.
In
the shadows of my mind
In
the remnants and shards of old memories
I
have walked through the front door again
The
floorboards have squeaked, light has bounced off the walls and I have
struggled with my bags into the hall.
The
doors have been open and it is Summer outside, and I have walked
across the bright clean room to the French doors and balcony and
looked down on the cool green garden and out on to the cool green
wood
And
you have called to me from the garden
As
you sit in the sun
And
the cat has appeared and meandered up the path, up the patio, to the
back door, hoping I will feed him.
And
the sounds of the city is muted
And
the swallows’ cries, as they dart above the roof tops, fills the
air
And
in the house it is cool and shady and the sofa waits,
With
piles of papers to read near by
I
kick off my shoes, go down the wide stairs,
In
the kitchen, the tiles are cool under my feet
The
cat meets me and meows a hello.
In
the shadows of my mind
In
the remnants and shards of old memories
I
do this again.
And
again.
And
again.
I
have gone back to the house again
But
I have not, cannot, go home.
14th
June 2009
