Photo by Matt Jones on Unsplash

When I Think Of This House…

When I think of this house,
I think of my tiny fingers scrabbling to unhook the gate,
I think of the garden path sloping downwards,
the loose stones that rocked and tilted beneath my feet,
now replaced by uniform gravel,
stable and safe,
stripped of all quaintness,
gone is that sequestering wall,
all is open now, even,
levelled out and accessible,
the path I trod is long buried,
along with a million finer details
of how this place used to…