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The House

by Jane E Pearce

The house where I grew up
beckens to me.
To go up the walk
and open the door,
to feel the aura of the rooms
where I used to love and laugh,
would almost carry me back,
but we've all moved on-
you both to death-
it would only remind me
what I've lost,
and wouldn't be the same.
Still the old house beckons me
almost calling out my name.

01/31/2002

Posted on 01/31/2002
Copyright © 2026 Jane E Pearce

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