The old house, with its green painted windows.

The house was gone,
And it felt wrong,
My lifetime’s dream
gone it seems.
The green painted wood,
Just a memory,
Lost in the new red bricks,
It makes me kinda sick.
So much history,
Mystery,
Returned to forgotten
History,
In the new red bricks,
And windows, extra thick.
Empty walls,
And empty halls,
Empty bricks,
And a garden without sticks.

 

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

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