An Old Man's Tears
An old rickety fence stands
where a corral used to be,
horses used to eat hay there
now, they roam wild and free.
A man looks toward the mountains
tears, stream down his wrinkled face,
thinking of the land, he once owned
now gone, without a trace.
Men from the city
came in and stole his land,
gardens, where lovely flowers bloomed
dirt, he toiled, with his own two hands.
The men came with bulldozers
chainsaws, to use for the trees,
this tore the man's heart apart
made his old soul feel uneasy.
He used to have a tire swing
where his grandchildren would laugh and play,
an old barn, sat in the corner, of the land
his grandchildren jumped off the loft, into the hay.
The only thing that remains, are the memories
of a land, he once had for years,
there is nothing that can replace
the broken heart and an old man's tears.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
July.23/2006
I wrote along looking at a picture of an old fence.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2015
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