Place

Look at me,
really.
Not a glance as you pass
through the daily grind
that grinds you down to function and no
form
of emotion
to see

my heart,
this space is
more than the sum
of its
parts
and peeling oil
paint
splattered

where I see a picture,
do you?
Am I only four walls on a foundation,
roof overhead, a
bed
too hot
too cold
just right

?

Look closer,
behind
features and paper-
work to find
structure with story,
pancake Saturdays
overflowing

syrup

on

oak floors.

There is history
in place,
expressions of faces past
to frame
your obstacles,
blocks to progress,
memories
lost

if I fall, do you hear