Empty House

• Manet Jagers, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2013

I don’t like going home.
There’s nothing there for me. It’s a cold place.
The fire is never lit anymore.
Dad doesn’t have the time or more likely
he just can’t be bothered.
Mum never cooks anymore. She orders take out.
We sit at the table we eat, we don’t talk,
we don’t look at each other, we don’t be a family.
After dinner dad goes to work, and mum goes to the pub.
Neither of them comes back till tomorrow.
The halls use to be filled with laughter now they’re empty and grey.
We live here, could you tell?
That old house down the road.
So quiet. So silent.
Could you believe someone lives there? I couldn’t.
Our house. Our empty house.