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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #1977877
A poem about an old house
Soon I’ll Be Gone



You see me as you pass by.

With my roof dipped in

like a sway back mare.



My walls are bending inward

with the weight of my roof.

It pulls me in,

I can’t take much more.



Winter comes

and adds more pressure.

It won’t be long now

till I splinter and fracture.



Once I was young

and sheltered families.

I watched them grow

and make their own.



They moved away

and left me standing.

Empty and alone

with no more laughter.



My paint is now gone.

It has been erased by time

and weather.

I am now blending

with the landscape

from which I had risen.



Except for my silhouette

against the backdrop of nature,

people pass by

with only a glimpse

of my stature.



Soon I’ll be gone

and no one will miss me.

I’ll have disappeared

into the halls of history.



By: Sharon Jones

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