79 Godstow Road.
The framework, the shell still intact, but hollow, the life blood gone,
Summer’s warmth dissipated in the Autumn mists –
My family home now diminished by the absence of those
Whose presence warmed and enveloped all who came.
No voice of welcome echoes through the rooms.
The teapot stands empty.
No one cooks with love.
And yet our memories will forever warm and bind us as a family,
Glued by the love received through all the years.
I wander from room to room.
Here I slept, read, played,
Secure in family bonds too strong to break.
Here I dressed for my wedding, nursed my new born babies and finally
Cared for those who for so long cared for me.
I gaze from the window and look onto the old shed and yard
Where childhood games played out our sense of fun.
We fought the injuns, hid from foes and built our beanpole dens.
Strains of skiffle, rock and pop still echo in our minds
And the ghost of a blue curtained van forever haunts the yard.
We have lost the family home but
Cannot lose the love we shared within its walls.
Here others will live out their dreams
Whilst we move on.
God bless us in our journeying.
