Selling Your Home Poem by Diana van den Berg

Sixty-five years
within this gardened home
dripping with peace,
and bird song,
hallowed with memories
of which I am ignorant,
blessed with lessons
I have yet to learn,
echoing with songs
I didn’t hear you sing,
thrilling to the laughter
of children’s voices down the years,
and happy barks long silenced
amid reverence and tears.

I am just an estate agent
buttering my daily bread
from the sale of your humble heritage

and you are just my clients
entrusted to me recently
but
the ambiance of a serene history
wafts through your house,
warming your walls inside and out,
touching your treasures with late afternoon light,
washing over your lush barefoot lawns
and bright nodding flower beds
and exuding welcome from the folds
of your faces both,

and I am honoured
and touched
by your charm
and the simple grace of your home

and awe engulfs me,
as I feel your courage
to walk down your garden path for the last time.

(8 August 2005)