Text A (prose extract): The removalists came on a Tuesday. By lunchtime the house had been emptied of everything except the marks we'd left on it: the pencil lines on the laundry door where Dad measured us each birthday, the pale rectangle on the lounge-room wall where the mirror had hung for sixteen years. I stood in my bedroom and listened to how loud it had become. A room without furniture holds on to every sound. Mum called from the driveway. I touched the doorframe once, the way you'd touch a horse's neck before leaving it, and went.
Text B (poem): Packing
Take the kettle. Leave the curtains. / Take the photographs, the good knife, / the dog's lead though the dog is gone. / Leave the view: it was never ours, / only lent, like the light that came / each afternoon to lie across the floor. / Lock the door. Post the key. / Begin, again, to be from somewhere else.
(Both texts are original and were written for this worksheet.)