A space; a home.
A domicile, between Warsaw and Roland,
it is where I grew.
we called it ours, passed down, this station;
a fine and noble inheritance.
and there I did dwell
until my bachelorhood started waning.
We all moved onward
and Mom died. For Dad, it became
a source of pride.
remodeled the house in a grand revision,
a king and his castle, surrounded
extended family related or non,
until things started changing, and life went on.
Free and open, shared wide spaces,
coming and going to all of these spaces,
but the winds of change blew off of the lake.
a prodigal son, off on his own with distance,
staying away with stubborn resistance.
a liver cancer, and all it brings,
Dad’s appeal, sealing a return most welcome.
“Bringing Up Father” or so it seemed,
not a bit how I’d have dreamed, a role reversal
a love dispersal, a slow decline to the sad disease.
just a space. Not a home, just a house,
the place was empty, not even a mouse.
a divvy up of all inside, only redemption
was what I took, stored in every dusty nook.
A buyer found, but at what cost,
an obvious satchel of memories lost,
but the space was closed in, a fortress constructed.
vicious guard dogs made it surreal,
and a dignity lost for this storied old place.
police busts and stings, a cell of larceny.
A memorable home once so good,
but now, there goes the neighborhood.