The House I Never Saw

There was once a house

Which stood tall on the street 

It was three storyed they say

In the beautiful valley

It had an attic

Which overlooked the entire street

The family loved sitting here in winters

Keeping an eye on the street

While relishing apples with walnuts

Three generations lived here

Aunts and uncles 

Sisters and brothers

Nephews and nieces

There was a sour cherry tree

In the courtyard

Dad climbed the tree and threw them down

My sister stretched her frock to catch them

A tangy chutney used to be made

Which could be eaten with just plain rice

That's what they say

If I close my eyes and concentrate

I can almost taste the tartness

In winters the home diety was revered 

A day specifically to feed the gods

Spicy fish and rice

Gods visit each home and protect it 

Unrest and destruction 

Had found its way into the valley

In the dark of the morning

Occupants of the house fled

Never to return again

My generation never got to see that house

Or catch and taste the sour cherries

We did not grow up with three generations 

But we keep feeding the gods

We carry a piece of valley with us

I have my own image of that house

The one I never saw

I wonder if it still stands tall on the street?