Old House
I see you , old house.
You slouch by the road.
You beckon me closer. You have stories to tell.
Your once proud form leans and creaks. But your foundation is still strong. You were beautifully made.
Once, you were closed off to us...your doors locked, your windows sealed.
You withstood many different storms and you are still here today.
Broken. But here.
Once, you were not so alone.
Your rooms were filled with laughter and light. There was music in your parlour and good food in your pantry.
Every season your walls were freshly painted and the shingles on your roof actually shone in the sunlight.
The moon peeked in upon those nestled in your beds and in the morning the beautiful aroma of fresh coffee permeated your kitchen.
You hugged and held secure a family of hard working folks. They kept your land productive and faithfully trimmed your grass.
You have so many stories.
Now we can see your flaws. They are attractive in a new way. Your outer walls form a pattern, a map of your experiences.Your windows and doors are open to the world. Your glasses are cracked but you can still see.
You see a world changed. A world that has been forced to slow down. Like you.
A world that sometimes forgets the old, the broken. A world that is now groaning under its own pains. A world that is slowly learning compassion for the sick, the marginalized.
I see you , old house.
I shed a tear for who you once were. But I still see your beauty.