For It Is Home
It was possibly the only place
that I could not leave,
not always so bleak
and desolate.
With no life left in her,
she stands alone
amongst the hills
and valleys,
wasting away
as tumbleweeds cross
before her.
Once she was alive
with the hustle and bustle
of the children playing,
women laughing
like cackling hens,
and men who jabbered,
cussing about crops and wives
and spit tobacco juice
most often missing the spittoon.
She was the first building,
the town hall
and where they held church,
school and once, the Clarkdale News.
But it was too isolated,
and the people started leaving
until there was only me left,
and this old building
that held oh, so many memories
for me to ever go away from her.
So, here we are,
me and her,
left to our hauntings,
so many decades
that became much more
than a century,
and neither of us
will ever leave,
for it is home.
Adding your comment:
Best wishes in the contest sweetie and much love of course
