NOBODIES HOUSE
BY FIONA CUMMINGS
Passing the house, who lives there?
I never see them, Neighbourly chat they don’t share
Neglected roses and honeysuckle
Flaky paint on their windows and the roof about to topple
Broken fence and gate
Cracked path of slate
Should I knock. Or is it too late?
Are there eyes looking out from the window?
When was there a key put in that door of forgotten yellow
No post
Perhaps it’s the house built for a ghost?
The grass grows
No shine on the windows
Buds are not nipped, on the purple rose
Concrete is chipped
Who lives there, no one knows
© Fiona Cummings
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