The House In The Field

A poem about a family long-gone

Image of the house that inspired this poem. Taken by the author.

From where I sat in the pasture, the house loomed tall
Up on the hill, lived nobody at all

But nobody living,
didn’t mean it was empty

If you travel across that dimensional rift,
the mold will disappear, and the vision will shift

to a brighter white, with every shingle in place,
in every window, a smiling face

A beautiful family, gone decades ago
Just how they went, nobody knows

Out on the porch sleeps a blue-tick hound
Now step inside and have a look around

Two brothers, three sisters, and laughter abound
Their mom singing from the kitchen, in her fancy gown

She’s making biscuits, kneading the dough
The going-grey dad brews his first cup o’ joe

A happy family, now lost in time
Their kitchen is rotting and covered in grime

Now the house looks old and mundane
There’s no need to be sad, for the memories remain

So if you visit the house, in the right state of mind
you may be shocked by the memories you find

They’ll invite you in, just as they did me
You just have to be ready, and willing to see