Carolyn Brunelle

The Old House - Poem by Carolyn Brunelle

I wonder if it gets lonely when the house grows still
how he deals with that emptiness that nothing can fill.
I wonder if he still misses them after all these years
or is there more of a comfort instead of anything to fear.

Can he still hear their footsteps in the wee morning hours
or has the old place settled and finally lost that power
from the previous tenants, an old couple and their pup,
who lived their whole lives there as he was growing up.

He would deliver their papers over and over again
carefully wrapped, placed on the porch just for them.
Was a sad neighborhood when they both passed away;
shocked when the boy inherited it all or so they say.

Funny how things have a way of turning out,
never really know what people are all about.
He and his own family still live there to this day
loving that old house like the couple who gave it away.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, May 23, 2011

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 24, 2011

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