Do you ever see a deserted country house and wonder what stories it could tell?

Out in the middle of the countryside
is a house where families used to reside.
The sway back roof once was so tough --
now the bad wolf would not need to huff
and puff to blow it down
since everyone has moved to town.

Think of the stories it could tell
when families were there and all was well.
It was built with such a plain décor
and now it’s missing every door
that let in all the cats and dogs
and once or twice some errant hogs.
The screen that once kept out the flies
and filtered the aroma of fresh baked pies
are rusted and hanging from the wall
ready with the softest breeze, to fall.

That big front porch holds a fallen limb
that’s big and broken and kind of slim.
Some missing steps that once were sound
lie under the porch upon the ground
Remembering the children’s hungry drool
as they ran for snacks right after school.

A tire at the end of a rotting rope
hangs from a limb with a gentle slope
longing for the little child
who sat in it for hour and smiled
as a parent gave the tire a shove –
a little task that was done with love.

What stories remain in this lonely place
when life was lived at a rapid pace --
Christmas, Thanksgiving stories to tell
and big birthday parties as well.
If that house spoke and we all could hear
do you think we’d shed many a tear
at the treasures that rickety building can hold
of much more value than silver or gold.