wood and memories

give this girl an old house.

a house made of wood and memories.

made by hands that are no longer on this earth.

give me the creak of the hardwood floors.

the breeze coming through the old, huge windows.

the walls, painted and then painted again.

the hallways where many people have walked before.

the rooms where life was created, given, flowed and left.

where lovers loved.

and love wilted.

spending their final night together,

knowing that it is for the best.

sometimes there are no answers.

but you cling onto each other tight,

knowing that this is will be the last time.

packed boxes sit in the corner

waiting for their new oasis.

and when the sun rises, the lovers part.

promising to remain friends.

but not quite naif enough to believe it true.

where families grew.

where children laid and giggled for hours

because the echo was just right.

and then, almost suddenly, they became adults.

walking the halls of their childhood home.

searching for what could be left.

finding that perfect spot.

laying.

speaking.

listening.

awaiting the echo.

and, just like before, it arrives.

where tea was brewed

and books were read.

laughter, tears, triumph, passion..

all wrapped up into one compact space.

i will stand there.

in this empty house.

breathe it all in,

grin,

and say

if walls could talk...