Poetry Corner

Poetry Corner


Molly Thames


I would close my eyes and walk down the stairs

I never needed to see to know what’s there.

My small gray house so perfectly placed.

I had memorized every crack in the driveway that my house faced.

I would tiptoe over the squeaky wooden floors.

I remember hide-and-seek behind every swinging door.

The comforting gold sofa and all of its ripped seams.

I loved our memories from Christmases when we all still believed.

I remember the whispers between the bedroom walls

I miss the interruption of my mom’s dinner calls.

But most of all I remember the sound

of when the men first dug into the ground.