Old House

Down the street on which old leaves sleep
Is my old house, where I used to live.
It is the same place, with the same sights and smells
With the same inhabitants living there still.

It had been 27 days since I last left the place,
27 days since I last said goodbye;
27 days since I stopped calling it home
27 days since I had gone.

I had decided that it should have ended,
though I hadn't want it to.
I could carry on and just pretended,
But it was best for me to go.

So
Forcefully
Painfully
I excised that which suffused
With my very being.
It hurt a lot.
But what scared me the most
Was finding relief
From the cleanness of the cut.

Today, I walked past my house again
and the memories come streaming through my mind
There are remnants of the place, some traces I retained
That still won't leave with the passage of time.

Down the street my house I passed,
With a twinge of nostalgia for memories past,
Of the same sights, and the same smells,
And the same people living there still.

But all the same, I walked back home,
The new home to which I had gone;
It is where my soul joy and solace finds,
From the day I entered till beyond time.