It
IT
It's not just a house
a place to park a van
a lawn to mow
It's where she lived
until IT took her away
to a much smaller place
Without memories
or trinkets or pictures
in frames forever
Where she looks
out the window
at foreign trees
And the smell of
someone else's cooking
fills the halls
As she fingers
through albums
of store-bought people
Wrapped in an unfamiliar
quilt she made from
grandchildren's clothes
That doesn't keep
her warm and
comforted anymore
Nothing behind
nothing ahead
nothing here
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© Doghaus
15 May 2018
I own all rights to the text in this post.
Image https://goo.gl/images/P3M9an
Honestly,
Doghaus
Great poem. "It" can have a different meaning for everyone. I think this is a poem that everyone can relate to. Great work. I love it. Kind of hits home for me but I'd rather not discuss it here.
Thank you @big.ock, it's been a difficult time and I had to vent. It's impossible for poetry to be void of meaning.
It to me is a heart that found and lost love. We often say home is where the heart is but I never thought about it once such a way.
Beautifully done!
Thank you for the kind words @bcsaffy.
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