The old Homestead
It stands like a soldier from the war, battered, but never broken; as passers-by whiz quickly on, they leave naught ev'n a token.
Though worn, but proud, it signifies the tears and toils or yore..
Now only memories remain, there's hardly any more.
It sheltered, harbored, shared it's life that others could exist.
A castle in the families' eye, 'twas home, 'twas love, 'twas bliss.
A world of sounds and tears and joys once dwelt within this frame.
But through the years all things have changed,
"T will never be the same.
Though crumbled, broken, strewn and strown the chimney shared a time of warmth and peace and family life; which seemed so safe... sublime.
The chards of broken window panes served once as wings of
dreams to children deep within the nest, who fantasized and schemed.
Coated with rust, a dented doorknob rolls on barren floor; its
weathered, callused owner's hand will be felt nevermore.
Hanging askew on broken frame the front door yet remains, to share with all who care to look,
Just what a HOME contains.
****
J-A Heitmueller