Remnants

‘Bin empty for years.’
said the old chap,
who stopped, with his terrier,
to watch the scaffolding go up.
‘Think some grand family
lived there, back in the day,
but I can’t rightly remember…’
and he, and his terrier,
shuffled on their way,
as the workmen began
picking off slates
like pieces of scab,
eventually illuminating
a mouse-nested chair
in the centre of the attic
and dissolving
the last wraiths of memories
into dust motes.