The chimneys smoke despite contrary winds,
And someone comes, at times, to sweep the floor
And open windows out, though no one since
The great dispersal lives there anymore
Save on vacation for a month of rest
From city life in rural August air,
To stroll around till people are perplexed
To see us back in town, and start to stare;
And everybody wonders why, today,
We, who lost mom and dad in years gone by,
Hold on to this old home a world away.
That's how it is, and I do not know why,
Unless for fear the buried parents might
Sense somehow that the doors had been locked tight.