Closing Thoughts

The slow assault of passing years
Has battered this old house of mine.
The outer walls, no longer firm,
Slow crumble to the rasp of time.
The roof sags sadly to the ground
And bows to a disinterested world.

Inside, the windows glazed with dust,
Grey out the colors of the world.
Each floorboard creaks its own lament
And echoes in the shrouded rooms.
The blackened hearth stares cold with ash
Into the slow encroaching dark.

But deep within the center core
Clear light pours through skylight glass
Into the hidden storage room.
Here photos in a jade green box,
A baby shoe, a Spanish comb
And bundled letters tied in blue;
Here books in scattered rainbow hues,
Red party pumps, a pearl-pink shell,
A crèche complete with golden star
Attest to other hope-filled days
And bolster up this fragile house.

By Amalia Burns

Note: Amalia Burns is a great grandmother living in Madison, CT. She has a bachelor’s degree in art and an master’s in art therapy, and practiced as an expressive therapist in a psychiatric hospital. She began writing poetry in 2009. This is her first published poem.

“This Old House” was published in Caduceus 8, a book of poems from Yale School of Medicine faculty, staff and patients, as well as nationally and locally recognized poets. Copies of Caduceus 8 can be ordered at $10 each by contacting the Caduceus editor at caduceus@yale.edu. Caduceus 9 will be available in February.