More than four years after my dad’s passing, my mother has finally decided to sell our house. On my last visit in December, I noticed that time has taken its toll on the building’s facade and our garden. For the first time in my life, I looked at the premises with a sense of melancholy that I tried to capture in a series called “For Sale”.
Pour the champagne in my hands, darling.
I’ll watch them fill.
I’ll hold them steady and try not to spill
Yet these knuckles will bruise over time
and skin will graze
and teeth will touch
and time and time again.
These nights will polish our veins
for future grudges to come
and as time takes its toll
and time and time again
it all stains.