by Maksymilian Sidorowicz
As a child, I would pass by this little house on my way back from school every single day,
I remember how perfectly shaped the frames of every window were
How the curtains remained opened a tad on the right side of the sill
Like there was someone or something behind it at all times,
Keeping guard
Watching over its temple
It’s adorably small and square temple
Making sure its beauty was upheld
The house had not a stain nor scratch around it
Not a dent nor bang
Just a perfect coat of white paint that was the suns favorite mirror,
I passed by this house for the last time 10 years ago
Never really thinking about it much because I never saw it,
I almost forgot it ever existed
I almost forgot I loved admiring it
And today when I took an old path to an old friend’s house,
There it was
All by itself
Gutted
Rotted
Tore down limb from limb
And I had no idea what was happening the entire time I was gone,
Learning after I felt the brittle wood that
Beauty will remain as long as you allow it to
I understood what had happened
Then I finally started paying attention.