1328 Maxwell

In this house the child knew

What it was to sleep next to an

Open window breathing in the

Clean sheets and the scent of

Lilies of The Valley which were

Blooming in the shade this

One warm day that would last.

On her dresser pictures and a pincushion

Drew his eyes and opened questions he

Would never ask. In this house he would

Know little, but know it well. Motes of dust

That floated between sun and shadow,

Reading by the hot air register behind

Her chair. They spoke little. He would

Arrive early in the morning. She would

Bake and clean, then sit for coffee

And a game show.

In this she lived after they had

Left the farm, but just a couple years

Before her husband died after his

His stroke. This house they moved

Her from when so much else was gone

She could no longer stay. I only

Know part of the story. This house

Now fenced for a construction site

And marked for demolition.

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