At first it came easily.
They stripped, rubbed and drilled.
Building hearth and home
with love and sweat.

Regret came nine months later
in screaming bundles.
Resentment left scrapes in the paint work,
gauged holes too big to repair.

The damp was already there,
turning everything grey.
‘Hold on. Wipe it away!”
But the stain remained.

Winter worked its way into the pointing.
Icy blasts under slammed doors.
Frozen pipes in the bedroom.
They shivered, unhinged by life.

A final deluge
and the foundations gave.
Weakened by years of tears
the house tilted.
Off balance,
engulfed by uncertainty,
they sank.

Sally Brown

If you have any comments on this poem,  Sally Brown  would be pleased to hear from you.