Is it the tread upon the staircase, steep, uneven,
Recognition instinctive to the one which makes a sound?
Is it a feeling of those who’ve trod the steps before
Echoing times of joy and merriement
in song?
I think I hear conversations seeping through the walls
Like whispers that cocoon this ancient space
Softness with comfort lingers
Suggests I slumber its embrace.
Touching the rail,
I seem to place my hand in theirs;
I feel the laughter; I sense the memories shared;
From chair,to windowpane the way the curtain moves,
I feel the breath of dampness in the air.
My spirit gently eases in the softness of caress
Safety and security in all I’ve ever known;
This thread of family history is truly blessed;
Generation on generation have called it home.
Dare I to lose the house which tells the story
Break the strands that hold me fast?
Yet memories stay secure
within the cerebral cortex
Uniquely wired and coded so will last.
I am known to the one who loves and cares,
Whose ancestry spans the test of time
Interwoven with all we’ve ever loved
Held until completion finally is mine.
Today I visited a very special house of a friend
Ruth Partridge 