The house that isn’t there

By David noe Submitted to Corner Post

More than a century in that place,

in my mind it can’t erase

Great-grandparents built and lived

experience and childhood sieved

throughout its boards now long decayed,

but in my thoughts, foundations laid.

So tangible, so real to me,

but all the world can never see

this solid place will never be,

although my memory can see.

So, now it’s gone, and there’s no proof

of life that lived beneath its roof.

Yet it exists, so I must find,

if it’s still there, then where’s my mind?