I’d break into our old family home
if it was still standing tall.
Electrical cords and floorboards;
that I would finely comb.
Searching for traces of us; big or small.
I should’ve taken the tub,
and the dryer was brand new.
I know they ripped up each stump and stub
and the yellow roses the year they finally grew.
This is just a missing piece,
this is where I used to live.
Memorized the trees and the streets,
and the faces I would greet,
to go see it again; what I wouldn’t give.
I’d break into our old family house,
if it was still standing tall.
As I dowse, no sound or a mouse,
was it ever even there at all?
Why did they lose the shed?
Why did they cover the lot?
It looks better in my head
than the day it was finally bought.
This is just a missing past,
this is where we used to coexist,
those rare family moments that I miss.
They’re now lost to the abyss,
I don’t remember the last.
I’d go back in time but
I wouldn’t want to impose.
Truth is the door is shut,
realize that road is closed.
I’m sad I don’t live there anymore,
I grew up; have my own walls and own floor.
A woman who loves me and her I adore,
but these thoughts still wash ashore.
Listening to The Old Apartment and feeling it sometimes.
