87,292 poems read
The ancient oak keeps its vigil by the turn in the road.
The mountain stands firm by the bend in the river.
The forest changes its seasons like a woman her dresses
The house appeared new one summer
With a young man and his bride
And children came with the seasons
And they played
And they grew
And they left
The house grew old.
First the man was laid in the garden
Then his widow
The winter winds would blow through the open doors and windows
Summer winds brought cars with the children and their children
They put flowers on the graves
And walked through the silent rooms
And then they drove away
Late one winter
Collapsed the roof