In this old place everything’s tall:
The cupboards, the clocks, the door of the hall.
The wind sings calmly as if it calls
The mice that lived in these empty walls.
I haunt everywhere like a ghost.
Oh places, where Dad was the host.
This is the cellar where they kept cheese
Whose magic smell made us stop and inbreathe.
The smell that drove us nearly mad,
And we were ready to fight with the cat.
This box used to be full of prunes,
The favourite fruit of little Drew.
I feel her presence, the girl that fed
My brother and me: she gave us bread.
Her memories are fading yet I hold on tight
Cursing the car that took them that night.
Konstantin Ananin
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/empty-walls-parody-on-empty-rooms-by-tjb/
