Monday, April 27, 2020


There’s a house in Hurricane,
A small house with a small yard
On a busy thoroughfare,

That used to be bright yellow
With a sign in florid script
On the front: “The Sunshine House.”

That was all. No one lived there,
And if it had been a shop
It wasn’t any longer.

Then one day, a wall went blue—
Solid, featureless, sky blue—
And it stayed like that for years.

Then it was painted all grey.
The sign was painted over.
It was a dark, handsome grey,

And nothing else seemed to change,
And that was all. You could ask
Around to get the story.

Maybe it would be boring,
Perfectly ordinary.
Some realtor bought it to flip.

But really? A sunshine house
For years and years—bright yellow,
Empty-sky blue—turned dark grey.

Don’t ask about the story.
You know as much as you need.
Bare sun, sky blue, and then grey.

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