The House

The shelter and comfort I gave so freely was gone with my destruction. The child once played alone and content in the comfort of my stairwell. The cat stalked the banister for a friendly monster to attack. The tempting odor from the kitchen, and by the fire, the pungency of the rain laundered dog steaming dry, all memories! Hate for me was born at the deaths of my several masters. Their Mistresses not understanding that I sheltered also death. Failing to remember the many times his grim shadow was closely put aside as I allowed life also to enter or remain. They failed to realize I must shelter all! Blind to the cause as justice is to the defendant. The shadows rise and fall with the passing of time, and now, all trace of me is gone. Yet the comfort I gave is still there. For those who knew me come to the spot where I stood and dream of the past. I keep it safe here, waiting for their return. Again, in the remaining sod, I shelter them with the comfort of their memory of what I once was to each of them.