I Remember
The steadfast small stained house of darkened brown
Standing proud with her new white cedar roof
And how her awkward shape changed over time
No longer looking like a former barn
Her cut quarry stone foundation long placed
Able to feel the shot heard ’round the world
While four Herculean timbers marked time
Balancing the bricked chimney on their backs
Trees of centuries before met the adze
Turning them into a tongue and groove maze
While others were flattened smooth for her floor
All solid that there wasn’t ever a groan
Comforting fire in her wood burning stove
Provides her dwellers of being secure
Hosting wedding and birthdays through the years
Steady was she during shedding of tears
She’d still be standing if not for the crane
Who’s wildly swinging ball aimed for her heart
Attack, attack ’til she fell to the ground
All for the sake of a new parking lot
Love this poem Bob…glad to see you’re composing once again. Love you
LikeLike
So many memories. Love you too sis
LikeLike