Apidistras

So today I left the house I lived in for years. After weeks of packing and
sweeping the days are finally up. I took a turn around the empty rooms and felt the years lift away. There's a lot of memories and the house won't keep them anymore. Like the books I packed away and the chairs I stacked neatly and stowed away, they've left the house. I rest my fingers on the window ledge and stare out into the garden. The shrubs are neat but the leaves from the oak tree we planted are all over the yard. Already the house looks abandoned. I make my way outside and lock the door, strolling down the path slowly. It'll be horrible to leave this place. I was so happy here. As if on cue, it begins to rain, and I sit in the car on the drive, among my wilting apidistras and other house plants people bought me as gifts. I can never seem to keep them alive. I give myself a mental shake, and begin the drive to my new house. I turn back at the junction, looking at my old life. The house is dark and the windows black. It's such a shame.