Hydrangea House

I’ve seen this place before

and though I might have

wanted to see it more

in my youth it now stings

like a shallow wound,

not buried deep enough

to ignore or refuse.

This place I know

it’s not so great

it’s windows creak

and the floorboards ache

The porch is rotting

and the doorways too

and something is stuck

in the chimney flue.

But this place I know

though it seems so old

and the walls are bare

and the rooms are cold

It still smells of hydrangeas

and hairspray perfume

and that’s enough to shake off

the dust that keeps it mired in gloom.