The House and the Wind (Long)

The old house was worn and grey.
The dust of the yard swirled around in the wind.
The old screen door banged in the wind.
The wind sighed through the branches of the dead tree.
One of the bigger limbs had an old frayed rope tied on.
You could see where the bark had made an attempt to absorb it.
The wind moved the old tire on the frayed rope against
The tree trunk in a counter rhythm to the screen door.
Sighing through the rustling leaves,
I heard the story of the old house.

When the house was new, it had a family that
Had three children, all boys, who played stick ball
In the front yard and in the summer they'd planted
The big tree, the boys would take turns watering it,
Then in the Fall, they would measure it to see how tall
It had grown, because Father had promised a tire swing.
The lawn parties with girls in white pinafores, hats and
Gloves, the Easter egg hunts and the snowmen made.
The Wedding reception where the table broke
And most of the cake ended up on the ground,
There was a going away party when the war came around,
The funeral reception when two didn't return and
The homecoming when one did.
The wind recited the Thanksgivings, Christmas's,
Christenings and funerals as one generation
Gave way to the next.

As the wind sang to me the house sagged more,
As if memories were being blown out.
The wind spoke of the time when the rains quit
Coming, when the grass died and eventually
The people abandoned the house,
With only the wind for company.

When the rains came back,
People came to look at the house,
Several times, but no one stayed,
Soon people quit coming at all.  
The house has been alone, except for the wind,
For many years.

The wind died down, as if to catch it's breath,
I looked at the old house with new vision,
Seeing it as it might have been in it's prime,
Suddenly, the roof collapsed, the weight of the
Memories too much. The stories had all been told
By the wind, there was no reason for the house
To stand any longer.

The wind came back with a mournful sigh,
To say good bye to an old friend,
I gathered a bouquet of wild flowers,
Placing them on the porch,
I heard the wind cry,
or, maybe, it was just me.