the secret place

there was a game we used to play
we would strike a fire with many sticks
and burn the house and laugh about it
until there was a fire brigade.

there was once we ran around the house
and flew from the swing and land far away
you would be in the clouds and i
saw you from the ground as your skirt flew up too.

there was a day you left the house and all
the scars you left on it, and i was still on the chair
lying still and dripping nothing
because there was nothing left to drip.

now we are changed and no longer young
but still i would see the fire, and the swing and the chair
and the house, that has become
my secret place.