Remember, Honor Alone

The vacant house stood alone. A vacant neighbor to the left and a drive to the right. The color didn't suit it. Carelessly the door was left open, yet carefully we opened further. Like our hearts the carpet was torn out, and only the sub flooring left with staples exposed. Walls painted with bright colors, again like us, masking the bare walls beneath. It is cold, even when the sun shines through the windows. Empty. Alone.

Kitchen cabinets are empty. The corner counter top once held something special. An event took place here, but the forclosure sign didn't check it off the list. Don't go in the basement, and the footsteps walk passed the stairs. In to what used to be the pink room there is no wisdom. The master is white, I don't enter just like before. Honor. Electric blue covers the other, feel nothing. It is not like the water once spoken of, there is no wind. Remember.

The ground is uneven and the cedars are cut. Shed is lock. There used to be a story. There is no key. Looking for anything, anything to return, nothing. Their footsteps are quick and curious, "I see the water." An event took place here, the shed is locked, there is no key. I don't want to stay, but I don't want to leave. A brick is taken, it is ours, it will ground us. Remember. Honor. Alone.

An event took place here. To the left we see the tiny patch of spring. "Pick them all, pick them low." Seven in the spring. At seven there is an inch; your back, my back. There used to be a story. The shed is locked. Flowers in water and back hand springs when I arrived. The vacant house is alone. Remember, honor, alone.