My house was loud
full of exciting colour,
noise of entertaining
voices gathered frequently.
Fancy dress partners
danced in yellow & purple
creative spaces where words
poured like leaking taps.
Suddenly it needs a facelift,
a new skin – beige blandness
to allow for another, writing
their personality on a clean slate.
No distracting touches of brilliance,
nothing that would scream ‘Mine!’
The fresh new look will be sparse,
quiet – Bali knick-knacks replaced
by exercise machines marching
across my lounge to a new beat;
resale value and everyman wants
erasing all memories of trees...
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2004