Deserted

It takes hands to build a house, but only hearts can build a home. ~Author unknown

I

Sit here

All day long.

Vacant, empty.

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

Go to

Seed.

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.

The Rest of the Story

I read a lot of blogs and often find myself wondering how something turned out, the rest of the story, so to speak.

With that in mind, I decided to resolve some of the conundrums I’ve posted about recently and catch you up to speed.

1) Shunning. The last couple of times I’ve been in church, I’ve witnessed this family make a concerted effort to arrive early and grab a pew they all can sit in comfortably together. Those five kids are just beautiful, and it warms my heart to see them getting along! They probably squabble just like most siblings at home, but their differences shouldn’t be made public.

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