What She Used To Be

Image borrowed from Bing

What She Used To Be

I suppose we’re too old to start over;
all that ripping and tearing - repairing -
jacking up walls to replace rotting sills,
painting and papering, staining old boards.
But I see her there still, just as she was
in the fall, before the widower died.

Simple white cape in a swathe of green fields,
stunning surround of flaming swamp maples.
Old fashioned garage for a new Model T;
red paint with white trim – a bit out of place.
I thought if I ever did own the house,
I’d move that garage, or I’d tear it down.

When the widower died, more changes came.
The house grew appendages all around
and tall solar panels up on the roof.
A porch on stilt legs leaned over one side,
hiding the old walk-out cellar stone wall.
A large plate glass window stares at the road.

The owner retired and moved away;
now the house is for sale - calling to me.
She knows that I live here, just down the road
and remembers we once lived side by side-
that the river flowed past me, on to her.
She knows that I love what she used to be.

It wouldn’t make sense to buy the house now;
to take down additions that spoiled her looks,
pay to remove them - start over again.
He says it would kill us, but I still dream…
I see her there waiting, just as she was,
in the fall, before the widower died.

Ann Grenier

Posted over on her site Knot in Line
Listed as #53 over on Magpie Tales 78