The old house on the hill is silent and still and weeds had overtaken the place The old man inside got sick and died and his family never once showed their face .
I’m sure in the past that house heard some laughs with children in the garden having fun , but those days are all gone like the manicured lawn that’s been killed by a scorching sun .
Isn’t it a shame only ruins remain of this beautiful house on the hill .
Nobody cares to carry out repairs because there’s no one left to pay the bill .
Empty and cold abandoned and old it will one day fall in a heap to the ground, like an unwanted thing that could no longer cling to hope at the end of a rope .
Compelling sentiments, Paul. Coincidentally, I have a poem posted here at AD entitled, "Old House." It expresses much of the same theme as you do via your verses here. Thank you. Love and peace to you,
Yes we sometimes end up like old houses on hills, forgotten, abandoned,
needing emotional repairs but there's no one who comes, until we die "and his family never once showed their face." I like the way you wrote this in prose style.
Such a somber poem of what once could have been. An old man across the street from me died the same way, he was a recluse, no one knew anything, but what was behind all the hurt? This scenario is so sad.
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Regis
Edwin
needing emotional repairs but there's no one who comes, until we die "and his family never once showed their face." I like the way you wrote this in prose style.
Cynthia
Be always safe,
Karen
Such a somber poem of what once could have been. An old man across the street from me died the same way, he was a recluse, no one knew anything, but what was behind all the hurt? This scenario is so sad.