Nobodies Home
The walls resonate
like the inside of a brass bell.
Footfalls act as the clapper bouncing sound
like a ping pong ball from wall to wall.
The antique oriental rug with its dragon vase
had long left, the black enameled troche
no longer lit the floor in puddles of orange light.
Hollowed out, the place was….
scooped like a cantaloupe free of the seeds
of man, of childish laughter and parental spats.
Dust bunnies scurry in the late afternoon
through the sunlight from dirty window panes.
Spiders weave webs in the corners of long
forgotten dreams…
Soon, all too soon,
this will be the case, the leaving will come
footfalls will lead to the last closing,
the brass doorknob will no longer reflect my face
and the emptiness will fill with the dreams
of a new family...
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010
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