Thirteen summers thence I shall recall br How 13 summers past have rolled away, br How many 13 nights the street-lamp lit, br And 13 times the lilac bloomed in May, br The passage round the side is deep with rain, br The shed-door creaks, the drain-pipe overflows, br The dustbin lid will rattle in the wind, br Ghost-bottles stand neglected there in rows, br My square and sunny room, the ‘friendly lounge’ br (So aptly called by agents on the prowl) br The antique dining-room and oaken beams, br The creamy kitchen, whence we’d often scowl br Upon the neighbours, who would think, no doubt, br They’d pay the agent just to get us out! br br Linda Roer br LRHbr br Linda Hepnerbr br