abandoned house, chimayo


Home is so sad. It stays as it was left, 
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go 
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft 
Of anyone to please, it withers so, 
Having no heart to put aside the theft 

And turn again to what it started as, 
A joyous shot at how things ought to be, 
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was: 
Look at the pictures and the cutlery. 
The music in the piano stool. That vase.

--Philip Larkin