It takes hands to build a house, but only hearts can build a home. ~Author unknown
All day long.
Dreaming of the past,
When I was loved. Needed.
When I kept a family safe
From storms, robbers, and other ills.
Love and laughter filled my rooms, and I
Felt secure in fulfilling my purpose.
Now my family’s gone, and I sit alone.
My lawn untended; my paint peeling,
Grass in cracks, weeds overflowing.
Who will fix me up again?
Will someone please buy me?
Will someone love me?
I can give much!
Don’t let me
Note: Monkey and I pass this ranch-style house on our morning walks, and it never fails to sadden me. I hear the elderly owner passed away several years ago, long after his wife had died and their kids went to live out of state. A daughter came to look over (and, I assume, take what she wanted) after his death, but she hasn’t been back since. There’s no For Sale sign outside. This poem is a Double Etheree.