The old home don't look the same
So weathered by wind and rain,
Once gleaming white on the hill
Now but a relic, silent and still.
Roses still bloom by the door,
No one tends them anymore
They're wild as the birds that nest
On the porch were we used to rest.
The old door stands open to invite in,
Nothing enters but dust and wind.
Lacey curtains hang tattered and torn
Adding little grace to a place forlorn.
One chair still sits by the window
That looks out over the meadows,
Sitting empty for years it waits
For someone to enter the gate.
The clothesline in the backyard
Now lies on the ground in shards.
The tire swing hangs from the Oak,
It's ropes decayed and broke.
I wish to roll back the years of time
And relive the memories in mind
Of a home filled with love and laughter
If only I could dwell there ever after.
© Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison
June, 08 2004
Scripture from: Psalm 40
Let all those that seek thee rejoice
and be glad in thee: let such as love
thy salvation say continually,
The LORD be magnified.
This poem is used with permission.
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