The Back Door Screen

The hinges and spring
in chourus sing
With every squeak and skrong
they sing this song
A melody of memories
of all who happened through

Each charge of children
Every covered caserole
And friends who came to call

Every sneaking out early
Every creeping in late
A bundle of joy carried in
An empty vessle carried out

Every slamming marks a moment
Where everything changed
Everything changes
And the screen sings no more

5 Replies to “The Back Door Screen”

  1. Oh! This touches some kind of primal memory. I can just hear the door screeching open and gently bouncing closed.

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