A House

Vines and Weeds,

Reeds and Bushes

Rise up from slumber to greet me.

Do they remember?

Do I?

Glimpses and Flashes,

That is all the past is to me.

And yet it is cherished.

A polished ideal in the minds vault.

The Gate swings open and then the house,

The Home, charming but empty.

Memory makes Giants of Dwarves.

It is as if walking through a dream,

Features memorized

Details forgotten.

'Was it always this small?'

Outside the trees stand watch.

Silent sentinels,

They rose with the house

In all their Overgrown Majesty.

Do they remember?

How could they forget

I who played under their boughs?

I who fed them on fancy and love?

But if they remember,

They show no sign.

Silent, indifferent, watchful.

A motherly dog stumbles up to me,

Head bowed, Cautious.

Satisfaction shining eyes.

Are you the pup I raised long ago?

Or am I mad,

Seeking meaning where none is to be found?

You have been good to me.

Perhaps I will miss you most.

The trees are still silent

As I leave. How long–

How long will you stand?

Will you be mine again,

Or are you just another ghost

Better left buried?