A giggle

What happens to a home when it’s residents leave? 

when no one is at home to answer the doorbell….

do the cups and saucers come out to play?

do the glasses peer from the shelf? 

do the books sigh and turn a page? 

does the cutlery resume their fight for space?

do the pots and pans dance up a storm? 

do the clothes unfold themselves into knots?

i wonder. 

Or

does everything just stay still and silent?

does the laundry just hang straight?

does the house lifelessly sit and wait?

in the light, in the gloom. 

for the sound of the key on the door,

 the footsteps that tell them the owners are home? 

I really wonder.

For as I shut the door today, I thought I heard a giggle. 

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