Too soon,
too late,
my house is stripped
and all that is so dear
is laid bare,
like the casting of lots
over the poor things of Jesus
that were worth nothing at all.
Too soon
all the precious things,
all the treasures kept
for another day,
are gone,
and disappear like
brown leaves on a windy day.
Too soon
even the house itself
will be gone,
with its ghosts and memories
and all of love and pain
that existed there
in the brief taper we call life.
26/3/2017