Rebuilding

“It’s all got to go...”,
Says the hard-hatted architect,
Plans rolled up beneath his arms.

The place has ‘good bones’, apparently;
The structure underneath is surprisingly sound
After all it’s been through.
It’s the internals that are the problem.

Once a notorious brothel,
This house was abused as thoroughly
As the women it housed -
Reluctant harlots, soiled doves,
Even demanding Mistress in her velvet and leather dungeon -
But now, after the great storm of the summer
That threatened to destroy all in its wake,
It’s ready to start again.

Little by little, room by room,
The paper and paint come down.
Specialist crews gouge out and renew
Faulty wiring and water-damaged plasterboard.
The faded, cracked roof tiles rain down
Into the skip below
To be replaced by bright, brilliant colour.

Standing in the garden, keys in his hand,
The architect smiles,
“We’ve done all we can, now. The rest is up to you...”

Time to make this house a real home
At long, long last.