Quiet and cold from November’s chill
This house now waits for warmth and voices to fill
Its once boisterous halls where grandkids held court
And aromas of bacon and coffee mingled with tales of youth and sports
“It’s never easy” the agent said
Packing, sorting, and selling the things once held precious by the dead
Oh look! she said
When I was a child this was my favorite…
Her voice trailed off as her own ghost danced through the room of twin beds
Memories?
Those are sealed tight
Kept safe away from the fading light
Only unpacked when the ghosts of parents pay a visit
to make sure she’s alright
