this is my mom's house. she is selling it now that
my father has passed. i can remember my dad bringing a dozer home and filling in the yard you see here and then my family building the wall and the steps. the pear tree that used to be there is gone now as are the 2 buckeye trees that used to be in the back. the fire escape that goes up to the 3rd floor, well that used to be my bedroom when i was a teenager. cold, cold as it could be in that room. the summer was hot as hell but at least i could leave the door open in the summer!
odd feeling, knowing that it will be gone. i haven't any real attachment to it but it does feel strange.
someday, perhaps some more poems might come from the memories of the place. more than one have come as is.