RSS Feeds

Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Houses for Sale

They are like people standing on a corner.
Emptiness fills them.
They are lost,
without voices,
flowers washed with spray,
a chair by the step.
Houses looking for people,
with souls of their own.
Preening themselves for the buyer,
holding their breath,
swallowing the sigh
coming from the barrenness
of their rooms.

Like children looking for love,
being adopted.
Needing the presence
of someone inside them,
who cares,
pushes up the windows.
Plants vegetables in back,
cleans the gutters.
While the house rejoices,
tells the sky,
I am not alone anymore.
I have been found.
I heard arguments last night
and the sounds of love,
children chased around my corners.
Mail comes,
and I stand firmly in place.
I am a home again!

That is what I see
in these houses with dark windows.
Waiting.
Longing.
Until time pushes over their walls,
and only stones remain.
Dig there,
and you will find a soul.
A place where people lived.
A house that sheltered a family.

Leave a Reply