Vacant Possession

They up-sticks-and-left overnight,

No sound, or sight of them going,

Nothing left; no note to say why

Only emptiness and a curtain blowing.

We had watched them grow old together,

Tenderly sharing, and storming life's weather'

Always a word, something to say,

We never thought it would end this way.

A home stands ready for vacant possession,

But its emptiness holds a sour impression,

The elements have fun with that small shack,

I doubt its residents will be coming back.

© Sue J Ashdown 2004