Sunday, July 6, 2014

Homestead

Two old people sit quietly on their porch,
they admire all that they had worked for.
The garden is smaller than years gone by,
the swing that they are swinging in has saw
better days. They do not care about the squeak
that they can hear, for in their younger days
a baby rest silently near.

That old barn that can been seen in the far
off distance, well it use to be red with shiny
new hinges. They smile in remembrance of
the first cow that bedded there, it filled many
bottles for the babies that cried in their arms.

Off to the side their once beautiful pond still
holds croaking toads, the weeds are grown
over like it had never been used. But they
do not care because their memories are of
long ago days, where their children had learned
how to swim in their childish amazement.

Least but not last, there it still sits! That once
white picket fence. Oh he remembers well the
day that they had found this place, his wife was
dead set on raising her soon to be babies on
this dwelling. Now the white has washed away,
like the youth that they shared happily as a
family.

The neighbors stare and gawk at the un-kept
homestead, but they wouldn't trade one thing
about it even if they were made. They can hear
them now talking, "have you seen it" and
"can you believe it". But they do not care
as they swing away, for this was the house
that they made a home as they watched their
children play.

They stand up hand in hand, walking into
the house that they love dear. It is time to
cook supper for the grandchildren that
soon would be here!

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