Moving day comes with all of its burdens
And sounds of dragging feet fill the
Once lively rooms. Stripped bare of
All that defined it, the house
Stands naked, all of its secrets
At last exposed. Dents and stains
In walls are all that remain. Stains
Of the mishaps caused by burdens
And dents reminding of the secrets
That once were hidden. And in the
Bedroom at the farthest end of
The hall is the Man of the house
Sifting through the toys in the house,
His Son closely watching. Stained
And cracked toys, worn from years of
Life, pass from shelf to trash, burdens
Not worth being saved. But the
Young boy watches for the secrets
He shared with choice toys. Secrets
Of tears, love, and triumph housed
In dolls of cloth. Stories of the
Friends he lost in travel, of stains
From oppressive words, and burdens
He had to carry. Then, “Wait!” Cries of
Joy, love, and alarm pour out of
The boy as He spots His Secrets.
“Keep those! I can stand the burden
And have made room in our new House.”
And so the boy’s toys, with their stains,
Breaks and tears are spared of the
Trash bin doom. Now and again the
Father asks about a toy of
Little wear, “It’s made for you, and stains
Don’t soil its cloths!” But no secrets
Were shared, and in the house
They remained, only burdens
Of the trash bin doom. There burdens
Crumble into dust as secrets
Of The House of Dents and Dark Stains.