It's had about a thousand lives in it, some brittle and cold, others quaint and lively. The wallpaper's peeling and the pipes are rusting. The shingles are breaking away, falling to ancient earth but the hearth still smells of warm breakfast, eggs sizzling in their beds,
toast crisp with strains of raspberry jam, griddlecakes
tanning themselves, milk being topped off. Somewhere there is a rumbling, a truck bearing gifts of furniture, a car with parents cooing to their young and calming the family pets as they speed on to their destination.
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