THE HOUSE ON 4TH STREET

this is the house
where our daughter
became a woman
our son left and returned
the dog grew old
you planted pear trees
I made paintings
for the barren walls

this is the house
in which our marriage shredded
like a worn fabric
where mold grew
in the cracks of the walls
that sealed our secrets
and our hate spread
like wild flowers
across the yard

and this is the house
that we cannot leave
though our hearts have fled
and our bodies walk
like ghosts
through the rooms

By Gloria G. Murray



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