The old farm Broken windows, shattered dreams; Life is never what it seems. Empty houses, rusty gates, untold stories, tragic fates. Hand-hewn timbers, mortar, stone, overgrown, and left alone. Rotted barnboard, fallen door, barren hayrack, dusty floor. Wooden beams, and cinder block, if these walls could only talk. Would they speak of happiness?, livestock, wheatfields, busy-ness? Families who worked the soil, countless years of sweat and toil. Now deserted, lost in time, silent witness, nature’s mime. Change of climate? Change of heart? What force tore this home apart? Desolate, devoid of charm; such a sad, abandoned farm. --phil
Posted on: Wed, 29 Oct 2014 09:01:20 +0000