The place remains in my dreams
like a movie set preserved…
Have assigned each room
a critique – disclosed the crimes
Yet, it remains, like a beacon
draws me to it, begs reflection
What if I could go back
now that I can breathe
Now that I’ve laid claim to maturity
would I discover a sudden windfall
makeover conditioned motifs
reevaluate ceiling heights
with resources to remodel
heart open, connected
might I uncover abundance
like a personal embrace.
(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge: featured image.)
Reblogged this on Reena Saxena and commented:
Childhood home …. by VJ Knutson
LikeLike
Wash away the ink on life’s pages
I wish to rewrite the story again….
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes! Yes! Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the first two stanzas. Lately, I have been having a lot of dreams of old houses from childhood and later. I think it is related to the stay at home orders. I do often wonder what I would remember if I could go back and wander the old rooms and if they would seem the same as I remember.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I remember going back to my grandparents’ house as an adult and being surprised at how small those remembered rooms were. I felt that I was out of all proportion with the house.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think that’s a normal response – shows how faulty our memories are.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Betty. I often think that we dream of former homes, It is an invitation to revisit something we’ve overlooked. I often focus on the abuse of childhood, but seldom take time to acknowledge the resourcefulness of the child I was. I guess that’s the message of my poem.
LikeLike
The older I get, home becomes more of an illusion – an idea rather than something tangible. Janet
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think you are right, Janet. Thanks for reading and commenting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This poem has such a powerful sense of nostalgia! Your words evoked many fond memories…πΉ
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glad you liked it. Thanks for reading so many of my pieces. Nice to connect.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You can’t go home again, surely you know that. π‘
LikeLiked by 2 people
Have you not figured out by now, Mike, that I am given to moments of delusion…or is that illusion? Certainly not allusion.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Surely you jest. π€ΉββοΈ
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lol
LikeLiked by 1 person
Childhood home – Reading your poem brought back waves of memories, tugging at my heart.
Thanks for sharing this here!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for reading and relating.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Itβs my pleasure π
LikeLiked by 1 person