Once beautiful,
surrounded by trimmed apple trees,
manicured lawns, and grain fields
waving in the wind,
it now stands abandoned,
lonely, empty of humanity
for the last 80 years.
Where did they go,
when the dreams
they held so dear
died?
No more do hobos
tramp the dirt roads
and spend rainy nights
resting here.
A bristly porcupine
and wheeling bats
would greet you
if you forced open
the broken door
or entered through
man-sized window panes.
The dreams I held so dear
have slowly withered and died.
Gone are my dewy apple trees,
manicured lawns,
and the wheat stalks
of my love
that waived in the wind.
I am abandoned,
hollow, an empty shell,
all that is left of hope,
once beautiful.
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