110,002 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
Heavy snows
Collapsed the roof