Turning The Lock

Devoid of furniture,
how shrunken the porch seems.
Stepping into
a home reduced to empty rooms,
ghostly impressions
still document an absence on
walls and floors.
Undressed, scars of wear and
tear now evident.
Weathered by decades of use,
with curtains gone,
imperfections stand exposed.
Who would have
thought that the past could be
stripped and
reduced to these few boxes.
What is left is
this bleached autumn flower,
with a final leaf
to pull off and end the season.
Turning the lock,
it will bloom again as another’s
springtime gift.