Empty rooms - part 1 Leaving

Sat here on a worn out carpet,
edges fraying out from the warp and weft.
Brighter paint on the walls where once
paintings hung or wardrobes stood,
indentations on the floor enjoy their freedom
…. if only very briefly.
Sounds below as burly men grunt and mutter
displeasure obvious to my ears as they struggle.
Heavy items loaded onto the small fleet of lorries
which wait patiently in the spring sunshine.
Neighbours peek out from behind curtains.
More adventurous types draw closer to get a better view.
Curious looks as they observe the men load the lorries;
The rosewood Louis 14th style grand piano; my Great Grandmama's,
Her Chippendale dining furniture, inherited by my Grandad,
followed by crate upon crate of paintings, glassware and china.
To them, voyeuristic excitement of seeing treasures of a different life.
A life beyond their experience. To me; things I'd known my whole life.
This act of removal signifying, for me, the last day and the end of childhood.
A defining moment heralding the first day of my adult life from closeted, privileged times.
Now finding myself without my compass in life. My parents.