Adam's House

You said come, and so I came,
Down to the house where the rooms are the same
Where the walls are painted in grandfather gray
And the doors open out, in an unusual way
As the days file out, one by one.

You said come, and so I came
To see the windows draped over in shame
And the rusted-out Chevy, wheels flat in the drive
Filled up with memories, still half alive,
Of matters unsaid and undone.

You said come, and so I came,
To watch clinging vines climb and claim
The white walls of the house, to swallow and hide
The silence that grew profound when inside
The house where sunlight grows thin.

You said come, and so I came
Down to the house on the street with no name
And we stood before it, you and I
And paused for a moment while you, with a sigh,
Opened the door and invited me in.