Philip St House

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POEM BY EVANGELIA KARAGEORGOS.

In a small backstreet

between busy main roads

sits a lonesome townhouse

with rustic old charm.

A worn down classic beauty

that time has ungracefully kept.

With a bright new white picket fence.

In a long wide hallway

photos line the walls.

Past and present housemates all featured

good times had by all.

Guitars line the hallway

a musician lives here.

He’s closed in his bedroom

music is all you can hear

as he writes a new song

based on heartbreak and lost tears.

A steep staircase with tight corners

leads to the tower above.

A housemate in her bedroom

is dressing herself up.

A ball gown, curly hair and shiny shoes.

She delicately comes down.

It has been a tough day, so to cheer herself up

she is going all out and dressing herself up.

Her outfit and hair are not for a night out.

But instead for staying in and hanging out.

Fallen yellow and brown leaves are carpeting the ground

from the trees that cover the yard all around.

A backyard oasis, from the city surrounds,

a hideaway

camouflaged in this small town.

Out the back on old couches friends are hanging out.

Beers are cracked open

and laughter rings out.

Talk of old times and things that they love.

The sun will go down,

and then come back up.

An old house with a soul

a charm still remains.

Filled with people and love

as time fades it away.

EDITORIAL NOTE: This article has been reuploaded and was originally published in 2023.