Promptly Poetry - Book 3

Homeless

I went down our street yesterday.
The trees that once were
too young to be climbed,
whose wispy arms barely
covered our heads,
now cast new shadows -
throwing their silhouettes
on every white vinyl-clad house.

I felt lost
where once my feet ran bare
through tender grass, slick and green
or tip-toed over the searing asphalt
having memorized each sidewalk crack,
and home was the house you built
a security that I took for granted.

All those Saturday nights
sitting cross-legged on the floor
you in that old recliner
something “wunnerful, wunnerful”
happened on a polkaccordion.

Now strange cars sit in the driveway.
The people who fill our spaces
have other stories, other trees.
Old neighbors moved
or dead now,
I wasn’t prepared for this transformation.

You laid the bricks for the front steps
in nineteen-fifty-two.
The work of your hands
undone piece by piece.
It’s a sharp heart cry.

I awoke to the expectation of my bed,
the birds, the sounds of my street -
but those I left in night visions.
The tears stayed in my eyes.
I can never go home
the emptiness would swallow me.


Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)" 

Week #10

Your poem should be inspired by this prompt word:

HOME
What does 'home' mean to you; a person, place, or something else?

Required Form: none
Required Line Count: minimum of 8, no max