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Poem

Driving down a dirt road one day
I noticed an old home sitting alone
and laying to waste.

I stopped at the front of the old place
and noticed the old home had a worn
but once loved look, upon its face.

In the corner of the old country farm
stood a crooked, laced gate full of
lovely, early 19th century charm.

It whispers to me of the years gone by.
Standing there alone waiting for some
one to love it again, brought tears to my
eyes.

Upon the gate sweet confederate jasmine
grew and it so fragrantly filled the air.
The wind so gently blew the smell around
the farm with loving care.

Old tattered curtains still covered the windows
lonesome square. My heart could do nothing
but at them with wonder stare.

So many memories this old farm holds, 
It seems to so eagerly be asking for its 
stories to be told.

I gathered a basket from inside of my car
and began to clean up the old gate that
to me, held so much charm.

The smell of sweet jasmine touched my soul
and when it was time to leave, it gave me
the feeling of belonging and home.

What a treat this old place with me shared, 
because for a moment someone cared. 
In those few moments spent, a lifetime of
memories with me it lent.

I think I will come back again someday soon
and from it lift, its lonely gloom.

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