Old House
by Jeffrey Wellman

He became an old house
The front porch railing with its missing spindles
That made up his worn smile
The stiffened joints that echoed the creaking stairs
As he slowly ambled up to bed
And the vacant eyes with their shades closed
Detached from the living world
The yard and flower beds were left unkempt
Since he hadn't trimmed his beard in years
His furnace broke the day his wife died
The cold crept in and filled his bones
With a terminal ache and longing
Now all that's left is the leaky roof
Where the rain soaks in
And the memories seep out

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Poem Copyright 2008 by Jeffrey Wellman


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