Ode to a dependable friend

You kept me dry
(and mostly warm)
especially near that vent on your stairs
where I could hear what was going on below
without anyone knowing I was there.
One time that was too much for me.
But I digress...

I had the best of you
(I didn't know it when it counted)
Light and air,
A view that
it turns out
someone will now pay
a million dollars for
I turned into my fairy books
to escape what I thought was hell

It was not your fault
that I sometimes had to wait
twenty minutes to be picked up
alone after dark
while someone enjoyed more time
in you

It was not your fault
that dinner could
be burned
or late
or angry

It was not your fault
that you only had three proper bedrooms
when we needed four
so one of us had to sleep in your dungeon

And speaking of that dungeon,
what would we have done without it
in latter years,
as a place for those
who had no other place
to hide in and
be grateful for
while they kept us all safe?

And speaking of her
how helpless
for the loss she may feel of you
of your sturdy presence
of your eyes that
must be kept shut
most of the time
so that the neighbors
cannot see all the food clothes and love inside

Now you are naked
looking, frankly,
a bit more battered
than I ever remember you

Do you matter anymore?
Do your dark thick panels
attract enemies or friends?
Do your many layers
beckon or simply
invite us to
waive our liability on the way down?

You are about ninety-two now
I knew you fifty-four years
And I depended upon you
more than I knew

Most of my friends
don't stick around so long