Moving Day
Musty boxes
Resting belligerently in forgotten corners
Gathering dust
Waiting to be dissected
Eviscerated
Purged of their jumbled bits and bobs
The oddments of a family of lives
Muscled arms heft them in a tanned sweaty embrace
A bumping scuffling journey ensues
The same arms gently relinquish their burden
Deposit them again on a cold tiled floor
A new house
Opened again at last after months of lonely brooding
A gloomy blossom it has finally bloomed
Throwing wide its cavernous embrace to four strangers
A motley crew of hopes and dreams and striving passions
How loud their voices
How bright their darting smiles
Bare feet thunder on wooden stairs
Doors creak on rusted hinges
Two fleeting youths stampede through stale chambers
Exploring
Examining
Acclimating to this shadowy skeleton of whitewashed brick
Moldering roof tiles
Terraced garden littered with brittle husks of summer leaves
The children race and dart from room to room
Filling them with their strident cries
The house shifts and groans under this sudden onslaught
Unaccustomed to such boisterous unapologetic life
But as night falls and darkness draws near
Weathered bricks hunker down with contented sighs
No more will the house be a forgotten shell
Home to naught but shadows and scuttling roaches
Now at last life has returned
It has a purpose once more
And having a purpose is all that anything
Even a house
Could ever want
Copyright © Amy Van De Casteele | Year Posted 2009
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