Lacrimae Rerum
It is a house
That was once a home.
Now with its eyes boarded up,
It has lost its heartbeat.
No longer does he hear
Her faltering fumbling with the key
When he has to visit.
Guilty memories are buried deep
Within him,just like his mother.
His sister tearfully packed the boxes,
Precious few treasures
Consigned to cheap oblivion.
Soon will arrive the house clearance people,
The necessary hyenas of a crowded modern life,
To leave no trace of her story
Save the little blot
Burned brown
On the third step of the stairs.
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