Curtis Forsythe Poet Free verse

The Cycle

The old couple sits on the front stoop of an ancient 
farmhouse, surrounded by myriad multicolored summer flowers,
starring from a circa 1960’s colored photograph.
Those flowers did not survive the coming of winter,
the old couple is long gone, and the farmhouse
has been bulldozed to the ground. 
Nothing now remains it would seem, only images
captured on paper with silver and dyes.
The photograph has hung in the hall gallery for years-
Yet, for the first time this morning, it struck me- 
the flowers in our garden are the progeny of those very flowers,
moreover, parts of the old farmhouse are incorporated into
the house their granddaughter and I now occupy.

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Curtis Moorman November 21, 2018 at 11:54 PM Curtis, from another Curtis, the sentiment in your poem is great. It proves that in inanimate objects, our long gone relatives still survive. Great write. Merry Christmas from this Curtis to you! Curtis Forsythe November 22, 2018 at 10:50 AM To Curtis from the other Curtis: Thank you Curtis for the read and comments, and a merry Christmas to you and yours also.