the most beautiful

bare walls and empty rooms
faint smells of paint fumes
I walk around the lifeless place
walk around the corner hoping Iíd see your face
we have to sell the place I grew up in
the place that was home to me and my twin
the blue walls in the room that was once my own
not seeing it furnished made me feel alone
going to the basement seeing the piles of junk not there
the door that never closed was also repaired
walking into my moms room without the dresser or bed
made it clear that she really was dead
seeing all the walls that were painted by her
but not the things she picked out like the furniture
everything was sold in the estate sale
all of it was in a contract, with much detail
its weird going my home when its not my home anymore
with all the furniture gone, no cookbooks, no scissor drawer
the house is labeled with a for sale sign
I donít want to sell it, I want it to be mine
They put a price on that house that was once my own
But that house is priceless to me with all the plants homegrown
With all of her decorative drapes and curtains she had hand sewn
My mother made it the most beautiful home




Poetry by sarahashley
Read 214 times
Written on 2011-10-04 at 22:18

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