It feels like an old house,
It is home to me
The broken motorbike
Leans against the shed
Tells me I belong here,
I am loved
Floral scent and mauve hues
Painting an antiquated view
Of you, paisley nylon
and apron-warm
The smell of apple pie
and suet on your hands
Who were you?
Amongst all that caring
All that self-sacrifice and class
When your purpose died
So did you.....gone
Without so much as a word
Or one last custard cream
You were everyone to me
And you were everything to me
And so very soft
I remember so many things
And wonder where they are
Little pieces of you to cling to
I want to sit across from you now
You know why I need you
You were the only one
That ever looked at me
With an ounce of understanding in your eyes
For you to hold my hands
and understand what I have to tell you
Come home to this old house
Just for one moment
Bring me my yellow bear
and my midget gems
I'm sitting here in the car, staring
Seeing a little girl run down the hill
And through the bushes
I know where she is going
I'm here, all grown up
The keys are in the ignition
Looking at the box full of rooms
The memory box
It's not a home anymore
It makes me ache inside
You were the home.
~ Copyright Charlotte Sometimes (SRWB) 2008
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