leaving home

leaving the old house.
the steps that creak
as your foot hits
the loose board,
that faucet drip
in the far sink,
the bones of wood
that shiver and groan
in the cold. a shutter
loose, the untight
windows singing
their songs.
what love you made
in these rooms,
what voices raised
in anger, or whispers
in kindness,
the meals made,
the phone that would
ring upon the wall.
what is this place
you leave, these rooms,
this empty tomb,
as you find the key
to forever lock
the door.