Someone’s History

I love writing poems, it’s true,

And crafting words, a lot, a few,

Today the world agrees with me,

In honouring all poetry!

The building beckoned, as they do,

With thoughts of finding something new.

I dropped the gate and rode on o’er.

Excited just to go explore.

 

What I thought was an abandoned barn

A stout refuge from storm, or harm,

Was definitely something more,

A house, a home. From years before.

 

Now without windows; shingles, too,

The door hung on one hinge, askew.

Old rubble did the floors pollute,

And glass was crunching ‘neath my boots.

 

A stove, a one-time work of art.

Inclusive of the nickel part,

Now lay supine and punctured, split.

Some reprobate had blasted it.

 

I wondered, “Could I haul it back?

And save it from its sad attack?

Then fix, repair and retrofit

And somehow make the best of it?”

 

But realized, as people do,

There was no way I could renew.

And sadly turned away; To find,

Another treasure left behind.

 

In one old bedroom near the stair,

Some boxes of old letters there.

I sat down on the dusty floor

Soon deep in lives lived long before.

 

I tucked away the words of love,

And climbed up to the floor above.

To find more boxes neatly stored

With clothes and magazines galore.

 

But, though the find was truly grand,

I daren’t try to touch—with hand.

For absent panes allowed, unchecked…

With pigeon poop was all bedecked.

 

Then, at the rafters did I stare,

Some ancient denim dangled there,

So long forgotten by someone,

Tossed and left when work was done. 

 

Moved over to the window then,

Looked out upon the fields again.

I thought about this home, bereft.

Why they came. And why they left.

 

It once had shone with tender care

As proved by what was left in there.

Abandoned. Those who worked and played,

As from the landscape did they fade.

 

Was death a reason? Poverty?

Had fortune kicked them to their knees?

Old age? Illness? Life’s sad flaws?

I sighed. There must have been a cause.

 

As I rode home, my thoughts askew,

Considering the old. And new.

So grateful to have chanced to see,

A glimpse of Someone’s History.

Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen, Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not? 

Next week while we hunt and pick,

We’ll talk of Something on a Stick.

Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?
We'd love to welcome you!
Topics for the next few weeks...
World Poetry Day (March 22)
Something on a Stick Day (March 29)
Read a Road Map Day (April 5)
Favorite invention (From Mimi) (April 12)
National Garlic Day (April 19)
The ocean or beach (From Mimi) (April 26)
The best thing about spring (From Mimi) (May 3)