A Roque Bluffs poet chooses retirement amid 'wide rolling floor boards hammered with hopes from a century of people now gone. '
Awakenings is one of six original poems that relate life, love, and loss as experienced in northern Maine.
The ad had said "a little TLC" in a local brochure of sales
but I now stood before the oldest house on earth
from ancient Maine frontier days.
Don't make me go in
because I know, right now,
that this is absolutely wrong.
How much did you say for dirt,
below the boards and nails,
but above my wallet, will, and plans?
The front key went into the old fashioned lock
with one coordinated push and a shove,
as we stepped right back onto history
at the backside of the door.
What an extreme lack of everything now
in the facade of a lifeless home,
just wide rolling floor boards hammered with hopes
from a century of people now gone.
Touch the banister, and gingerly tread the tight stairs,
worn both inside and out by former feet
through out the many years.
These windows have reflected previous eyes
waiting and hoping for change.
Few casual hands could have touched this house
with so much upkeep and demands.
But maybe, just maybe, this could be done and that and that…
Did I actually say it out loud?
Could my life be rekindled along with this house,
enough to span my stay?
Maybe this here? Maybe that there? Could this become my own?
Slide a hand back down along the railing
and admire your very next home.
- By: Beth Terrell