a simple house on amalfi way
it knows the delicate feeling of happiness
it knows the bitterness of betrayal
it knows the cheer of a christmas morning
it had many lives move through its bones
how long did it watch over me?
can it remember what i can?
the innocence of learning “please” and “thank you”
the sound of training wheels and lawnmowers
shrieks of laughter coming from the trampoline
a small hand gripping a bouquet of orange cosmos
loquats hanging on low branches like drops of gold
lost lunch boxes and scraped knees
forgotten toys and spilled nail polish
climbing up to my pine tower above the world
where i could see the kingdom of roof tops
my kingdom of roof tops, my city of trees
until i got too big to slip in between the branches
until i got too big to ask “why” and say “no”
until i got too big to be scared of the dark
now some new, happy, wholesome family
has painted my green front door to black
and the driveway that used to be my canvas
boasts a new artist’s colorful work
do they know that was once my garden?
do they know the love that grew the lavender?
do they know the hands that painted the walls?
even so, how could they not want to stay
in that bright, clean and welcoming
simple house on amalfi way?