Number 2
I live in Number 2on my street
it is a single digit-house
brown with a door
that opens out to
the world outside
My dad built the house
40 years ago now
and already there are
cracks in the foundations
small cracks that has formed
the latter 10 years of its life
Still my dad thinks the house
will outlive him and my ma
that it will outlive me even
Maybe he believes it when
he says it to me...
I'm just not that sure
maybe it will be gone
when I am going to my grave
maybe it will be just rubble by then
maybe the cracks in the foundation
will have cracked the wood and the door
Turned the house to a ruin
a memorial for dreams lost
without an epitaph
or a gravestone
or a priest
to say the last words
Poetry by Charles F Kane
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Written on 2008-11-10 at 12:04
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Rob Graber |