from Mirror at the End of the Road, 1971.



May 20, 1964, attic cave, Cambridge, Mass.


I dreamt about our old house in the country again last night. Yeah I went out to see the old place again and I remembered the other times I'd been out to see it and I remembered back when we lived there. Not much left of the old place. The dutch door has rotted permanently open and I stood in the doorway and saw me coming home from work, trudging to the old house, through your eyes and I saw how you loved me from the old house. And somehow I still believe I'll find you there when I make my lonely visits. I'm careful not to change anything, I respect what time has done; spiderwebs, broken windows, sagging floors. Decay hasn't changed anything, only aged it a little, everything is still just as it was when we called it home. Remember how we promised the old house we would be back, told it to wait. We just didn't know. We were so young how could we know about going back to live in our old house. And the old place just sits and waits for the two young lovers to return and it will be a new house again alive with laughter and discovery and young love and the new baby. But somehow we all know. The house knows and you know and I know. Time has passed and the old house is only a memory in a dream and I'm waking up now and the dream is only a memory in a dream.

Mel Lyman