Memories

[Ca ne fait rien]

As you can see, this is a very personal poem....so please "tread softly because you tread on my dreams"

Memories

The house is silent now
Not sadly silent, softly so.
But, if I sit and listen
I can hear
Bass boom from the attic room
Ben, again - House music's insistent beat
then
Michael Jackson's falsetto
"This is thriller, thriller night..."
The soft slide of John's moonwalking feet.
In Kirstie's room, a baby cries
"Go to sleep my baby
Close your pretty eyes"
Then the slamming of doors
as Laura storms
Upstairs to her room (again)
And there, just faintly
the quiet pad of a small cat's paws.

As each echo grows
Then softly fades and goes
I smile to myself
Though the house is silent now.

Funny. yesterday, before I came to this site and before I read your poem, I had a similar experience in my old house, which I still own but no longer live in. I went from room to room, remembering 25 years of family growing up, good things bad things, just ordinary things. It is a weird thing how you become part of places and they become part of you, so that there are times when a memory of something you had completely forgotten about is sparked up. I like the way you build up the noise and then let it down through the cat's paws to the silence, how you separate each sound, when originally it was probably one big cacophony.

If was to make a suggestion, I might say, what about starting with

'In the soft silence of the house,,...

to take us in there with you right from the beginning?

I appreciate you are echoing first and last lines, but I think that the rest is strong enough to make the reader hear the echoes. Also 'soft ; implies that it is not sad, wistful perhaps, but no detriment to keep line 2.