House on the Hill

(Inspired by the first line from Five Poems for Grandmothers by Margaret Atwood)

The house on the hill
remains stubborn and strong
wind-whipped into shape
endless battles
with storms.

I still see you standing
half-blind yet defiant
stooped over age-bent
anchored in place
to a past
that’s long gone.

Weathered face
steeped in kindness
for those you felt
were deserving.
You believed
I received
I cannot thank you
enough.

I know I won’t
find you there
but hope some parts
of you remain;
a scent in the kitchen
a melody in the hall
warm hug in the doorway
it still hurts that you’re gone.

Our iron-forged bond
effortless, unbreakable
through our shared
love of words
both spoken and read.
I feel luckiest, though
to know you best
most of all
as a place to call home.

Now, I stand at your house
on the hill, standing tall
rain-soaked
plaster crumbles
eaves decay
full of holes
yet, no less of a home.

It is ravaged by time
like us all in the end
I aim to fill it with love
if I manage even half
as much as you did
I’ll honour your memory.

So, when it’s my turn to leave
feed the worms and the trees
I’ll leave a legacy behind
one that stands the test of time.