Life, Rubble and Dust
Once upon a time, long, long ago…
proudly stood along a country graveled
road, a large, beautiful, white two story
home where the sounds of two small girls
could be heard playing in the yard of
rustling autumn leaves.
They screamed with joy as they ran and
tumbled in the high piles of autumn
gold, and the cool North wind blew dust
from the old country road into small
dust devils so bold.
The screen door opened and a mother's
sweet voice loudly proclaimed;
“It's getting dark girls,
come on in before it rains.”
The Fourth of July, Christmas,
birthdays, happy day and sad
day come and go.
Life is sweet,life is
good, dolls, pig tails
and little red riding
Days came and days went,
weeks turn to months, and,
the tall oak trees swayed to the rhythm
of the wind as the years of time quickly
Now one is forever gone and one is four
scores, and ten waiting to join her
big sister again.
The two little girls playing in the golden
leaves of that magical time so long ago,
are now only faded memories in the wind,
for time treats us all the same in the end.
That old white house no longer stands,
just rubble and dust in the cool autumn
Jackie R. Kays
- Vote for this poem -