My Father's Favourite Plum Tree

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 05, 2018

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Submitted: July 05, 2018

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PLUM 1

 

This is the only address I can remember.

After the war, you don’t remember much, but I remember you. You too-tall languid house. You too yellow, not-enough-personality-sickly-looking house whom I love so dearly.

I remember your fresh coat of paint. A peacock show for the neighbors really. It screamed I’m not sick! I promise! But you are my love. You’re falling sick and I’m afraid not even a parachute can save you.

We are not so different, you and I. You strange cube of a property, too-ugly yet not decrepit enough.  We both may be empty, but like the carvings under the carpet in the guest room, and the scars from scattered nails; we are lovers.

And I will always remember you.

 

PLUM 2

 

It is you I see: I knew you, my house; home.

After too much loss: I love you profoundly.

My love, together I promise; like

Bare guest rooms, we lost lovers look withdrawn.

 

PLUM 3

 

I will always remember you.

Lovers are scattered nails and,

Carvings under the guest room carpet.

We both may be empty,

You too-ugly decrepit property,

But we are not so different you and I.

You are falling sick, and I am afraid.

I’m not sick! I promise! You scream.

A peacock show for the neighbors, really.

I remember your fresh coat of paint.

After the war, you don’t remember much.

But I remember you.

And is the only address I can remember.

 

 


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