Thursday, February 2, 2012

Poem: The House on the Corner

The House on the Corner

Windows are broken.
Paint flakes.
Outside, weeds reach,
conquering the porch,

which sags sadly,
the screen door flapping in the wind.
The slate roof, once so proud,

Someone lives there,
quietly afraid behind well worn
curtains, peering out

at night, in the dark hours
when they cannot be seen.

It would take imagination
to want to live there, belief
that until the beams collapse,
and the walls fall in,
and perhaps even after,

there is hope.


Like all my restoration poems, it has to do as much with life as the object. In this case, the object is a wonderful old house in Granville, NY, one of the next towns over from West Pawlet. You can click on the picture to get a larger version.


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