Treasure Island

Maya Hanson (mye3 poet)


Amber's House


Carry me back to
Amber’s house
That story long ago
Maybe I was different then
Maybe I’m different now

Who would have thought
that child out there
Would have grown up so fast
Would have forgotten this whole past

But I’m reminded when I’m close to
Amber’s house

Down the street
running through neighbor’s yards
We’re exploding with feeling
just starting our lives

Golden Amber sprints beside us
we scratch behind her ears
As children we always wondered
why don’t things ever last

I remember
I sighed
I stood in front of
Amber’s house

Come September
I cried
I stood in front of
Amber’s house

I can’t shake the feeling
that if I go back there now
The magic will have left
Oh, Amber
why did it have to go

I remember
Snow shined on Amber’s roof
as winter came and went

With spring came the pear trees
spreading their scent
dropping their blossoms
onto Amber’s house

Summer brought the sun,
born again into that sky
It cast light once more
on that grass I knew so well

Fall leaves
I couldn’t see my path
but the slant of the roof stayed clear
a pile collected at the side of
Amber’s house

And again winter fell
Snow returned
I became
Not a child anymore
My memories
Collected in the sight of
Amber’s house

And that winter
cast a shadow
It would have to happen soon
Of course
it would happen in the winter
under the waning moon

The only symbol of Amber’s house
her canine owner disappeared
Oh, that golden retriever
She wouldn’t come again

Amber’s family
remained, yet still
Amber’s house
had lost its
puppy glow

We grew up, wondering why
these things have to change
We may never know
but we can always dream

Carry me back to
Amber’s house
That story long ago
Maybe I was different then
Maybe I’m different now

Submitted: Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Edited: Thursday, January 16, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Amber was a golden retriever who lived on the corner of my street. She was, hands down, one of the sweetest dogs I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and she was a memorable part of my childhood. We saw her so often that the house on the corner, instead of calling it the Stonemans' house, became known as 'Amber's house'. She died in the winter of 2011, and years later, just the other day, I thought of her for the first time in a long time as I rang her owner's doorbell for my annual Girl Scout cookie sale. This poem is a mixture of the memories I have of Amber and that day when I was looking back on my childhood and what I miss about it. I hope that wherever Amber is now, there are warm laps, green grass, kibble, lots of playtime, and of course, Frisbees.

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