A family moves into our old home.

Meaning, it is old in age.

Also,

Old.

Meaning it was ours when we were living.

My husband and I.

We passed away three days

Apart.

A year

Ago.

Still, we wander.

How do we settle in a new place after fifty

Five years

Together?

In the same

Home?

We are not

Wise

We were not in

Life.

We are not in

Death.

———-

The new family is a couple.

Together.

Twenty years. Two daughters. One son.

The son, twelve.  Daniel.

The daughters, nine, and five. Stella and

Serena.

———-

My husband smiles. He says, darling you’ve done

Your

Homework.

I say, yes. This place was and is important to

Us.

I say, look, sweetheart. They keep our roses neatly

Trimmed. And they’ve kept the house

The Robin’s egg blue I love so.

Then I say,

The oak.

How it has grown in only one

Year.

———-

He says, shall we go in?  They won’t see

Us.

I surprise myself by saying,

No.

———-

I like the outside. It’s June.

Roses.

Pink, yellow, burgundy, true red.

Heavenly scent.

I can’t take one.

Against the

Rules.

———-

Darkness falls

I take in a quick shallow breath.

I can, still, though I’m no longer living.

As can

Husband

I see our little calico kitty, Charlotte in the shadows that remain. Under the blue

Hydrangea.

Madeleine, across the street, took her

In.

I long to hold her one more time.

Husband says, sweetie. She can’t see

Us.

And I know this. We are transparent.

My heart

Breaks. I can hear it.

The sound of a small branch snapping.

A lilac branch heavy with blossoms.

Fleeting.

———-

I cry. Harder than I did when I was living.

In pain.

I say I only want to touch the front door of the home I love

So much.

Also, against the rules. Look, but don’t

Touch.

We could enter, without

Touching.  But still

Feeling.

It’s too much.

Husband pulls a pair of clippers from a

Pocket.

I say, but Charles!

The rules!

But he walks to my favorite bush,

An antique pink, clips off a fully blossomed

Rose. Stem attached.

He says, you know, Emily, that I have never been

A strict rule

Follower.

I hold it to my heart.

Sweet scent, thorns, and all.

Yesterday a comma came to my door

A colon offered to sweep my living room floor

None of this made any sense

I looked out and saw an apostrophe leap my fence

After all this a period brought itself to the fore

I must admit I have writer’s block

That’s why punctuation came to my door to flock

They wanted merely to come to my aid

All they found were my pages filleted

What I’d written so far was just drivel and a crock

My idea for a mystery came to naught

The killer was way too early caught

The whole story ended way too soon

And why did I make the culprit an obvious goon

In the way of suspense there was not a lot

The punctuation arrived just in time

I have a neat house and my tale’s beginning to shine

Some of my commas have got to go

And all the apostrophe’s* in plurals are a no no

The periods say that readers dislike rhyme

*apostrophe added for effect, and “poetic” license.