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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I have always lived in this house. Yet, these floors I don’t seem to remember. From parlour to pantry there were once rugs from Persia and Minton tiles of cherry in the halls. Now the boards are decayed and rotten and I can see the earth and worms through splintered holes. These walls make me shudder and cringe. From skirting to ceiling there was once willow bough wallpaper of olive and cream and a gold Roman frieze that soared between arch and chimney breast. Now the panels are damp with mould and peel away in greying swags that reek of bugs and putrefaction. I shade my eyes from, the windows. The light that once shone through the panes was a mottled spectrum of purple, green and yellow that glowed alive through the face of the Arch Angel Michael. Now the glass is fractured and stained with rust as freezing winds blow through their sacred cracks. Today I found something new. A piece of paper pinned to a tree in the garden. Upon it, a message read, ‘you knew all along’. I don’t recognize the hand. I don’t recognize the sentiment. I put it in my pocket. Today I found something familiar. In the scullery, a clump of hair clogging the sink. It’s red and thick and not mine. It wasn’t there last night. It wasn’t there this morning. It wasn’t there an hour ago. Today I found something lost. A single harpsichord key on the music room floor. Its edges are chipped and scarred as if bitten by tiny teeth. I thought he had stolen it. I thought it was gone forever. I’m so glad I can play once more.
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