The Old House
When a house crumbles to itself
the wooden floors and walls long ago
became dinner to termites.
It also ate up sleeves
of little girl's clothes,
the pot handles, the cold stove,
the sagging armchairs colonized
When ancient occupants now settled
far away to a place unreachable by foot
each son and daughter
comes back to take his and her
chipped plate, fading photograph,
one-eyed doll, and rusty bike.
They shake it off with dust,
careful to walk on swaying
trusses, dark corners,
soft linoleum floors.
Hurriedly, they pack
memories before the wooden
house crumbles upon