Their House (Poetry)

This was their house
and I am a guest here by accident —
invited by circumstance sixty years
after they’d gone
and I’m breathing their air
in the space where they lived and imagining
the family gathering — six of them
whose blood I share.

She is the one
who haunts me — great-grandmother Annie
with a rustle of silk
and an afterthought-cloud
of lavender trailing the stair
and he — the great rogue
of family history
drunk as a lord if those stories are true ...
with four sons to their name
and a place in society
tensions run high —
flood the walls through.

This was the spot
where some were born and some died —
inbetween they saw
too little laughter —
sadness rises like damp
and I’m soaking it in
this chill warning to those
who visit here after ...