Point of No Return

Grass in the cracks of the sidewalk,
cobwebs masking the door,
I toss the key from hand to hand,
this house where I lived before

shows me a rusted mailbox,
windows blinded by shades,
front steps tilted and broken,
the sense of my errand fades

as I think of the rooms’ stale secrets,
is a wise man here or a clown
who would open a door he once padlocked—
why didn’t he burn the place down!