110 Prince Street - Poem by Ana Schatzmann
I still remember every detail of this house, the look and the smell of it, the whole atmosphere.
I remember the blue walls of my room, the doctor's office that I could see when I looked out of the window.
I remember the kitchen, it was the biggest and cleanest kitchen I have ever seen.
The bathroom with its bright lights and all the perfume bottles standing on the shelf, in a perfect order.
The big white couch and the little yellow one, where I always sat.
The Garden with the tree that always reminded me of the one in 'Pocahontas' and the white roses.
I remember the smell of dinner, the sound of someone singing in the shower, the feeling of fresh air blowing through the opened window.
I miss waking up from the dog whining for company in front of my window.
I miss how the sun hit my face every morning as soon as I stepped out of the door.
I miss coming home to a bunch of questions awaiting me.
But most of all I miss the people who lived there.
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