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  • Writer's pictureThe Channel

Grieving The Changes

Updated: Oct 9, 2023

Words by Claudia Potter

Hardening, rolling into little balls,

brown, dead leaves from trees fall,

trunks sicken, yet the trees still grow tall,

but there will come a day when death will call.

I will miss these naïve walls,

whose eyes have not seen much,

and I will miss this new wood,

which has not experienced the abuse of its clumsy owners,

with final scrapes and cuts and scratches,

and I will miss these new hardwood floors,

who do not collapse under the pressure of heavy feet.

I know one time, there will come a day,

where I will return to the walls and the wood and the floor,

and see all the damage and wounds,

that passing time has caused.

And I will have missed history and past moments,

and I will silently cry, from the inside,

as I realise all the moments I have missed,

(proved by the new cracks in the elements of the house),

as I realise all the little things in my hometown,

that I failed to witness.

My home, I will love you forever.

Cover Photograph by Ella Furnell

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