The Shop Now Gone

Nostalgia poem.

The Shop Now Gone

I knew exactly where to go to buy your presents, once.
It was the old house on The Plains, down by the river.
Traditions they called it.
Inside, stacked floor to ceiling, stuff for sale,
In every room that used to be something else, once -
A living room
A bedroom
A kitchen
The entrance hall with its Victorian tiled floor,
The creaky staircase that took people up to bed, once.

I used to meander about the house, picturing
How it used to look when people lived there,
And always my eyes absorbing the treasures for sale,
Knowing one would eventually catch my gaze with
Your name on it.
All things useful and useless but always wanted.
I could have filled my own house with all the stuff as well.
Maybe that’s what happened in this place
And the people had to move out.

But now the stuff has gone.
The rooms are empty.
Are the people coming back?