Out beyond its depth

Next to the railway line, this house,
resentful of being looked at,
painfully holds itself up straight,
ashamed of its gawky gables
and blind windows, embarrassed
by its small shoulders and large hips.

But the young boy, who draws it,
knows, that the empty house
misses the family, who once lived there,
for it stares at him accusingly,
incredulous for being left abandoned.

The boy returns again and again,
brings his own grief with him.
House and boy stare at each other,
while the empty white sketch block
slowly fills with distress of something
out beyond its depth.

One day the boy cuts himself loose
from the memories, turns his back.
He now paints other empty houses,
broken windows and faded shop fronts
in city centres, suburbs and out of town.
His paintings always resemble each other,
stuck in the anguish of desolation.