Some Old House

A sparse location with possibly a wooden door,
bare floor, and half-remembered table.
A farmhouse perhaps, and an old woman,
who was given to generosity with the tea.
Home-made cakes and sandwiches
and other things to sum up Sunday afternoons.
Perhaps some absurd ancient artefact
the kind that makes money on the Antiques Roadshow.
But this one is cracked, chipped and personal
and will lose all value when I die.

I don't believe I've ever been here before,
this floor, that door, the table could be anyone's.
Once a farmhouse now a conversion,
planned for a surgeon who works in town.
A fast-speed internet connection, so feel the bandwidth,
even with the problems of rural cabling.
And nothing here is old or cracked
it's all exactly the way things should be.

As if no one else had walked through that door before,
trudged over the bare floor and slumped at the table,
smiled up at his new wife, a young woman
and been given a smile, a kiss and a cup of tea.