155 Bheam Avenue

WALKING DOWN THIS EMPTY HALL FEELING ONLY THREE FEET TALL. AS THE FLOOR CREAKS WITH MY EVERY STEP, MY BREATH IS GONE, I FEEL NOTHING BUT FRET. THE WALLS THAT USED TO BE COVRED WITH PHOTOS. NOW ARE BARE,ALL THAT'S LEFT ARE THE SHADOWS. LEFT BEHIND ON THE BATHROOM WALL ARE THE MARKINGS OF SIX CHILDRENS' GROWING HEIGHTS. IN THE ROOM WHERE DINNERS WERE EATEN STOOD THE OLD PIANO,WORN AND BEATEN. FROM FIFTEEN YEARS OF SIXTY FINGERS, POUNDING THE IVORYS, THE AWFUL TUNES STILL LINGER. A BROKEN DOWN PORCH, FADED FROM BLUE TO GRAY HOLDS MEMORIES OF A FAMILY'S LIFETIME OF PLAY THE TREE STILL STANDING IN THE BACKYARD,ADDED REALITY TO THE GAMES OF THEIR IMAGINATION. IT WAS SOMETIMES A HELICOPTER,CLUBHOUSE,EVEN A HELICOPTER.. THAT TREE BINDED THEM WITH GOOD INSPIRATION. THAT HOUSE WILL ALWAYS BE THE ONLY HOME I'VE EVER KNOWN!!!