Moving
Our old house has died
I know...I passed by yesterday
my snow angel yard
now crystal-balled and bird-bathed
the English ivy that held together the red brick walls
hacked down by some psychotic landscaper
I wonder who is living in my room ?
shall I dare enter the door by the yellow plaid kitchen ?
does the callbox still ring in the pantry ?
are there servants now who beckon to its call ?
the curtains are all closed
how dark it must be inside
the cracked pane from my baseball
now shiny new
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