Alone I stand in this old house,
I can imagine the emotions that were once roust.
Day-Dreaming of sweet and sour days long past,
The joy and pain all gone so fast.
Yet alone I begin to ponder,
My curious mind begins to wander.
Have the experiences encased by these walls,
Linger still with life and calls?
Or have they vanished without a trace,
Sorely missed, but given no chase?
I'll never know till it's too late,
If remembrance and feelings have such a fate.
But if I think long and hard enough,
I can picture, observe, and almost feel that stuff.
Perhaps the answer lies with the sole beholder,
Yet pondered too long will surely smolder.
The structure, its contents, the recent disaster,
Has not removed from this place its emotional plaster.
Days of hate, love, pain and joy long past,
Although gone from sight are still remembered fast.
As my grandmother searches for her old favorite blouse,
The last living remnant, the sad surviving spouse.
The things here that have happened make me feel small as a mouse,
As I stand alone in this old house.
