top of page

'I Drew My House'

Writing: George Millership

Illustration: Petra Wonham

For many of us, part of beginning a university education is leaving home. This poem combines the heartache of leaving home with a grown-up take on one of the first tasks we are given in primary school - drawing your house. More of George Millership’s poetry can be found at


I drew my house

from memory

From my flat

a year away.

I shaded the dint I made courtesy of my cricket bat

The magnolia tree, but with the branch I broke,

And all the other things hidden from mum and dad.

I drew my sister at seven in her tutu and wellies

And the step on which I inaugurated her with an autumn broom

I drew the front window, complete with the old telly

Outlined the ivy dad tore down that dappled my childhood room.

The garden gate was easy, persistent in its flimsy state

As was the sloping path, which when frosty we'd unintentionally skate

Here were the holly bushes, which in winter pricked bright red

Even under biro blue, I felt the place where I first bled.

On the pavement I HB-ed the hopscotch, which was once charted in chalk

And behind, the front porch, where we'd drip sticky ice and talk

My bedroom to which I retreated when voice clumsily dropped

And finally the front door I stepped out of with my bags, an offer, the lot.

In the absence of a façaded photo, I worked up each scruffy layer

Of recollections rendered roughly on lined and margined paper

And though my home never looked all at once like that,

For me it was certainty, actuality,

For me it was fact.

4 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All



bottom of page