The Quiet House

Na/GloPoWriMo Day 17 Challenge:  Write a poem that  presents a scene from an unusual point of view.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

I used to be like the other houses

that lined the streets of this town

I had curtains in my windows, mail in my mailbox

a dog house in the backyard.

 

One year I was painted white, another year I was painted brown

I had a lawn jockey at the end of my driveway

and roller skates and bikes in my front yard

 

And then one day the mail piled up and spilled from

outside of it’s well worn box

the curtains blew in  and  out  of my empty window frame

my  furnace ran until the oil ran out.

 

My bedrooms are always full of

sleepers who don’t dream or toss or turn

they never get cold or hungry

they never say a word.

 

But sometimes

they wake

and sometimes they walk

and sometimes their dog

who lives far away

snaps open his eyes and barks

 

at nothing, it’s nothing his new owners say

as they watch him run to the window and cry

it’s nothing

he’s just dreaming, let him be, he will be okay.

 

 

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