There were so many memories, to conjure up and yield-
From the glimpse, of that old worn out house, I spotted
from the freeway, that held onto it’s spot, in the field.
.
The paint had worn off many years ago-
The wood, on the sides, were beginning to bow.
.
A young man had built this house with his bare
hand-
To protect his family, from the weather, and the
wildlife that crossed the land.
.
Times were good, and a few were bad-
But, overall, a memorable life, this family had.
.
As the children grew, they began to move away-
Off to a new life, is what they always had to say.
.
And, the once young man, who had built this
house-
Shared the end, of his years, along with his also
aged spouse.
.
The children would come back, now and then-
Along with the grandchildren, to remember their
own childhoods way back when.
.
When the old man and woman passed
away-
They were buried near the old house,
a custom, in that time and day.
.
As the years grew, no one longer came-
Too many years gone by, things just weren’t
the same.
.
No more family, to upkeep the old place-
It now belonged to the elements, as it continued,
to take up space.
.
There were so many memories, to conjure up and yield-
From the glimpse, of that old worn out house, that I spotted
from the freeway, that held onto it’s spot, in the field.
-2012-