Great vines and creepers
hold it in its final embrace,
It sinks to the earth
in a silent slow pace;
Bright yellow flowers
bloom where it falls,
No memory lives on
of its towering walls;
I look at this poem long after and see,
though people move on and places forget
In my words, from time you are free,
little house, you live forever.
Nov 25 2007
No comments:
Post a Comment