Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.148.223.53

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

I stopped in front of a decaying house
That takes up some space on a busy road
I stepped up on the porch - it's not my house
It was not my house - never my abode

Those are ferns in the garden doing well
I would have planted those if it were mine
So that I could see them through the window
And smile that the plantings are doing fine

I see the rosette hung above the door
It needs a little sanding and some stain
One of those chores that I would have put off -
I would have promised again and again

A wobbly staircase leads uncertainly
Toward what seems to be a roof with a hole
In the center- a patchable problem -
And then I heard the whispers, bless my soul

Children I never had whispered nearby
In a decaying house I never owned
With a garden that I never planted
And a staircase of wood that moaned and groaned

I leaned on my cane headed for the door
It had been the right choice to stop and see
The decaying old house close by the road
Just two of a kind, the old house and me

7-15-20
Contest: The Decaying House
Sponsor: Constance La France

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required