Built on the plains
Rolling hills as the backdrop
Yet the view now goes unseen
Traces of Victorian elegance
Peer through the overgrowth
Uncertain of tomorrow
Naked and discolored ornate woods
Seem to remember the era of its
beauty
Built with an extinct pride
The timbers still stand
A memorial to the generations
Which called you home
Panes that reflected the morning sun
Calling out, “dawn has arrived”
Lie shattered among the broken dreams
Water stains reveal the tears…
Wept since they said goodbye
Alone...Abandoned
Untold tales linger within
Wanting the chance to be heard
Field mice seek your shelter
But they cannot comprehend
Lifetimes of emotion lost
In the swirling winds of change
Lives began within your walls
They also did perish here
Is there anyone remaining to say?
This is where I was born
Or in the light of the moon
Do spirits awaken to come home?
Facing a slow painful disintegration
Hoping for one more chance..
One more generation
To heal the wounds of time
And restore that which has been lost
Scott L. Mockerman 03/04/99