This Old House

Closure

patches of browned plaster, spotty, aged, peeling

mother's old robe laying haphazard against a wooden bed post

crackled worn ceiling, veins exposed

deflated birthday balloon clinging to a textured corner

dried flat puddles, forgotten seepage, leaving shabby patches

a clock ticks dimly in a distant room

rough floor coverings, too thin, stained and wrinkled

empty chairs, brother's jacket stiff, forgotten on an entry hook

windows without covering or screen, leaking outside air

peering out at a gravel driveway, a silver car waiting

worn crumbed shelves, empty hangers dangling on rods

empty picture frames across silent ghost dirt squares

footprints in dust, matte dried along sunlit tracks, a gentle rustle vibrates, blow back behind the thud of a hollow, closing door