This Was our home

By Ryan Gulledge

Ryan Gulledge is a junior at the University at Albany. He is an English major with double minors in communications and psychology. Reading and writing have been significant fixtures in his life for over a decade. He aspires to write for a living, or at the very least, help teach the discipline. Aside from reading and writing, his interests include playing video games, traveling, hiking, camping, and visiting historical landmarks. Coffee is his preferred beverage, which he almost always takes black.


our old house near the pond

white as Rome’s finest marble

built on seven gentle hills?

Every year,

when December arrived, 

the snow-garnished ground

blanched the house from sight

Perhaps it

was sleeping with the foxes nearby,

wordlessly pleading to us

not to be disturbed

We obliged

and claimed the yard instead,

reigning over our seven hills

while Romulus and Remus watched. 

Mist-veiled days

were spent raising legions

of snowmen, ornate igloos, 

and glacial gladiators. 


soundless, unformed, unseen 

cheered and waved as they

sprinkled us with rose petals. 


whom the Romans revered,

always tugged on our gloved hands

and whispered, “five more minutes.”

But the years

skated by as we

skated on the pond,

our icy Mediterranean. 

Rome crumbled –

our columned winter haven 

has been in ruins for

years, maybe decades now.


we came,

we saw,

we conquered –

because this

was our home, 

our pond, 

our white-bellied Rome.