Delapitated and worn, she stood there,
the place of childhood fantasy's dream.
Magic was born in this realm of sweet fun,
the laughter rang out through all of our smiles.
Daddy built her with his own loving hands,
allowing me to hand him needed tools;
I remember dropping all of the nails,
one by one I handed him memories.
Momma would call us for dinner at six,
there we would hide until we knew better;
she still used the switch on us when needed,
but we didn't push her that far often.
Coming back to the place where love had grown,
I was saddened to see the neglect here;
I reckon I'd expected it to shine,
to still be the place of childhood dreams.
I slowly shrug my shoulders, turn away;
I walk back to the car with my family.
It is time for me to add on new dreams,
my children will help me build a new fort.
A contest entry
- ~Image Prompt~ # 2 by -Ink Artist-.
525 points, ended May 9, 2007, 16 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Though we sometimes can't truly "go home" again, you always have the wonderful memories of times past to revisit. You took us on an emotional journey to the past with the lovely imagery in these lines. Flow was wonderfully done and emotions tugged at the heartstrings. Great work! Thanks for your entry!
~Lori
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for some reason this brings to mind the saying "you can't go home again". I know that can be interpreted in many different ways , but one of them being just that which you wrote about....it never is the way we remember it. so we can keep our old happy memories intact and move on to built new ones. I enjoyed what you did with this picture. My best to you....in life , as well as in this contest,
z
reenie
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