This House | A Poem by Elaoise Benson

I know this house but yet,

the air has quite shifted.

I know the aged carpet and wooden floor,

the cobwebs hid behind bedroom door,

I know how this sofa holds me:

Baby-swaddled. Don’t cajole, see,

I cant remove myself from the memories,

Of how the puzzle fits together.

I know who sits where,

How much milk the tea can bear.

I know how those legs will rest,

the coffee table suits it best.

And I can’t explain the distance,

what it was and what I now am.

But I know how the guitar sounds,

Heart held, an anchor grounds.

I know that even though I go,

the house continues its final show.

Shows the world it’s not just walls,

and draws and shutters fast.

It knows it’s warm, loving, kind,

It knows it’s home, it calms the mind.