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Life, Rubble and DustOnce 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 Hood. 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 spins. 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 wind. Jackie R. Kays © 2008 Vote for this poem
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