Heart is Where the Home Is

home of many souls

Image by Wry

Once it
was home to rich
Madame of a brothel.
Built in the mid sixteen-hundreds.
Our home.

Close to
transformer site
of which behind there is
forgotten indigenous graveyard,
unmarked.

Neighbor
insists she sees
the ghost of a captain,
slowly traversing our backyard,
silent.

Wife, when
she attended
UNH, lived here with
her best friend, now dearly departed,
much loved.

Martha
makes this our home,
good at nesting here, thus
makes loving souls feel so warmly
welcomed.

~ Wry Welwood
18th of January 2022

Written in response to Paper Poetry prompt: Home.
attention: Carolyn Hastings.