A single, blow-up bed
claims my stake
on this house
mostly empty –
dust remnants
of former occupants
rise at my passage –
I chase them
Renovation
will precede
settling in
yet, I will not leave
wrapping myself
in these walls
waiting for
the revelation
that this is home.
(Linked to V.J.’s weekly challenge: home.)
Outside, clouds hover,
heavy, threatening.
Inside, men haul –
china cabinet,
weathered couch –
accumulation
marking years,
exiting under duress
echoes fill in the spaces
scent of soured sweat lingers
kitchen counters
glare, empty
layers of our lives
stripped away
our vacated shell,
an emotional tug
Is it fear? Â Sorrow?
What was it all about anyway?
closing the door behind us
locking memories in the past
we load our small boxes
essentials for a simpler life –
a home on wheels life
point our nose forward
and drive away
as the sun breaks through.
(A year ago, we sold our bricks and sticks house, along with its contents and moved into a motor home. Â Now we are reversing the process – accumulating and setting up house again. Â Apparently, we like change. Â V.J’s weekly challenge is fittingly about home.)
One Woman's Quest 