Abandoned Decaying House
I walk into the abandoned decaying house I was born; thought about knocking, then laughed realizing no one would be in. For so long I wondered what it looked like. I couldn't leave until I did.
At that moment lull emotions of hopefulness rushed over against the cold darkness. What fond memories of my family brought up on by a thought, a song, or scent.
I set foot inside and smell the musty dust odor. The room was dark with little sunshine coming in from the front window and collapsing roof. I reach and move my fingers over the flower rosette carved into the oak staircase railing, the same as on the door frames. Passing through in the silence you could hear the echo whispers of the past.
I walk toward the backdoor, onto the back porch of the kitchen. Out towards the back yard I see ferns and ivy choking and moving away from an old grape arbor. On the highest out stretched bough of the gnarly old tree grasp the fraying rope and aged tire swing I use to swing on. No sign of our garden.
The gentle breeze blows around, bees, butterflies, and birds still grace the presence of this old home.
7/17/2020
Decaying House Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
porch, ferns, roof, rosette, staircase, window, garden, house, door, whispers
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