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Jun 2016
I've moved so many times
But that house stayed constant
All the years of staying late
Thinking it was haunted.

That house was like a home to me
Where I'd sit with dogs in dim light
And dance around the kitchen
Bake cookies and try to take flight.

We walked around the neighbourhood
And ate our weight in doughnuts
Listened to pop songs and sang along to Snow
And tried to get boys to phone us.

The place where we would rescue Peach
And let our piano skills loose
With Juicy Couture jingly bags
And never ending apple juice.

All the teddy bears we won
And sneaking into sister's parties
To curry sauce and French plait fails
Marked my height from when I was thirteen.

The Halloweens full of sweets on the floor
And crying at sad parts in cartoons
With all the 'road friends' drawing near
In my best friend's little box room.

The house is like a museum
A house of memory for me
One thought and I am half my age
With Guinea Pigs and our hopes for babies.

Goodbye old house, Goodbye old friend
This is the end, I know
You're up for sale and then you'll be
Somebody else's home.
My best friend's childhood home is up for sale.
Written by
PS
361
     Pradip Chattopadhyay
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