Stepping into my room I saw
the old one, crumbling away
And ashen, in my mind
As if it had been caught
In a fire some time ago.
I turn (in mind) and check the other rooms
The same greyness in each, the same pallor.
So strange to see the new
In old terms.
And down through the cellar door
Of my old place I find heaps
Of discarded toys, donated clothes, and the furniture
Torn apart as if someone let
a pack of badgers through.
And turning back to my new home,
My new reality,
felt like finding a smashed clock on the floor
that told the time of its demise.
I stepped out of the room
as one opening an unhinged door;