Church Hill Sonnets (II of VII)

Sonnet XLVII (Church Hill II)

I walk through the heavy, unlocked, oak door

Tapping a rhythm in case you are home.

I tiptoe past Woofy strewn on the floor,

Turn on the light and thereby cease to roam.

I breathe in the air thick with years gone by,

Taste lives past and smell who is yet to be.

I'm perched up on a limb, towering high,

Where generations have sat and dined free.

I remember faces of old and young

Embraced in communion; many made one.

With children instructed to hold their tongue

While Gramps told his stories of World War One.

All this remains a mystery to me,

The stranger who has climbed your family tree.