Millersdale - William Doyle

And so everything fell upon me

Cascading indefinitely

But in a sense

I felt it cement my place in it all

My resolve

I opened up and bloomed

From a house that is no longer mine to behold

One residence wrapped in ivy

End terrace life, tilting slightly

The shape of grief is condensed

Between the glazing that framed every scene

Immense and excellent mess

That was floating / wild / free

It’s no golden age

Or golden longing

Just iron cast, monolithic

Reminders of the lack of a tether

As light as the days were alive

The open fire

The flames of creation

The flames of a lessening dread