Mother's House

A memory of my mother’s house

A deep, clear lake

Sharp with colour

And the smell of the woods around

But fragmented

Like gravel

Sprinkled on the water’s surface

I could almost stand up

And walk through those rooms right now
I could walk out

Into the overgrown garden

Hang from the rusty swing

By the unwieldy climbing rose

Crimson and overblown

Left to the cold wind

See my father’s shadow

Bending, pulling a weed

The house that we sold

I've passed it since

From the road it hasn’t changed much

The holly tree in the front garden

That gave so freely of its Christmas berries

Gone

The rooms and the garden

Stealing other hearts now