The House Poem by Patricia Morse-McNeely

Canting to one side
Paint gone -
Only a bare
Almost invisible trace, here, there-
Greying, silvering
In the sun
The rain
The wind
Whistling 'round your corners
Snatching bits and pieces
From your sagging head.
Your doorway
Open wide in silent screaming
Dark shadowed
The door, a hag's single lingering tooth
Hangs there
And tear-fractured window-eyes staring blindly
In the sun
At the holes in your apron
And your broken feet, unstepped.
The path to meet you is overgrown-
No footsteps press down the dusty grasses now.
Alone
Lonely
Forgotten
Like an old and lonely woman
Whose suckled children have gone
Along with her caretaker
Into the world-
Or beyond-
I watch in silence
And something in me
Echoes
Your soundless cries.
A lone dove settles on your rooftree
And softly mourns.