924: The House My Father Built

I am still weighted by the dream
of a house being built
by my long-dead father
It wasn’t him – but some stand-in –
and the details in the windows –
where colour was etched to capture
the hills and home of deer
so that the past could be lined-up
with the correct view and angle

A small leak in the high roof
and paint trod into the carpet
and cut timber remained
and an improbable kitchen –
which we mentioned lightly –
and it was likened to a shooting range
He had been a good shot


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