Possessions

Possessions
By Mark Spencer

Matthew built a house for Laura,
The girl he hoped to wed.
For when it came to loving her,
He was out of his head.

Love was etched into the floorboards,
The walls and rafters too,
It was forged into the staircase,
Crowned by that ocean view.

They were married in the summer
Of eighteen ninety three.
In the fifty years that followed,
They built their family.

And then in nineteen forty six,
Laura's life slipped away.
Matthew followed four months later,
On Independence Day.

Their children sold the house that Fall,
For thirty thousand gold.
And then in nineteen fifty eight,
Again the house was sold.

The house changed hands seven times more,
From then until today.
And in that time, its history
Was lost along the way.

No one recalls who lived there first,
Nor why it came to be.
A home that once fulfilled a dream,
Is now just property.

Possessions will outlive us all,
Of that fact, be assured.
And with time's relentless passing,
Their stories are obscured.

There are so many untold tales,
And each one is unique.
What a story that house could tell,
If it could only speak.

Your home, your car, your precious things,
Will share this paradigm.
Everything will be forgotten,
With the passage of time.

For no one looks beyond right now;
The future or the past.
And so, what is will always be,
For right now's never last.

Our history is filled with them,
Though lost to time's mystique.
Remembered by a house, or car;
And things that cannot speak.

End.