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Tomorrow they’ll come To tear it down, This house I lived in At the edge of town All around me In the fusty air Are the voices of others Who once were there “Yes?” I answer And look around But I see no one's To be found. Whispers follow In empty rooms, A hint of fragrance Of long dead blooms, The faintest melody Floats on high. Do I hear a waltz? A lover’s sigh? Little footsteps On the stair, Glimpse in the mirror Of golden hair, Smell of iron on Fresh starched clothes, A whiff of roast Tickles the nose. Here are the ghosts Of yesterday Here my childhood Memories play Tomorrow the building Itself will be gone But whispers of the past Will still live on.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

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Date: 7/16/2021 10:37:00 PM
Welcome to Poetry Soup, Barbara. Yes, it might be a heart-wrenching experience to leave your home behind, but at least you carry fond memories in your heart to where ever you go. Hope you will be as happy in Nebraska (detail from your blog).
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Peckham Avatar
Barbara Peckham
Date: 7/17/2021 1:52:00 PM
Thank you for the welcome. I am happy here, e even though I would rather have stayed on Martha's Vineyard. But you are right. I have lovely memories.
Date: 7/13/2021 8:07:00 AM
I like this poem and feel that your memories will keep this home alive for a long, long time. Welcome to poetry soup. There are some very warm and supportive poets out there as well as talented ones. Hope you enjoy the site.
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