The week after the funeral the house was cleared
Memories taken to the auctioneers to be sold off,
The polished sideboard and dining room table,
The picture frames now empty of smiling faces.
Treasures collected and stored over fifty years.
Memories now fading, scattered to the four winds.
Only ghosts remain.
Now the house is empty and a for sale sign hangs
From the bedroom window as the cold winters chill
Blows freely through the house into empty rooms
Once full of laughter. The scratches on the bottom
Of the door where the dog would scratch. One day new
Memories will fill the house but until then the house
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Memories by David Wood )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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