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.