Poem: The House Stands

The House Stands

The house stands,
listing to one side,
stripped of paint
by time and weather,
victim
of floods and neglect,
windows broken and boarded.

Vines grow through the doorway,
twisting outside, snake like,
then climbing
up trees,
whose dark roots rise
thick and powerful, grasping
towards the foundation.

The walls cry a song
not of death,
but of reminder -
"Here once was life.
Lovers danced on my floors
and children laughed
as they ran down stairs
to play

in the same river
that rose against me
in times of storm."

The grey walls croon.
" Do not cry for me,
for as long as I stand,
there is hope
of redemption."

The house stands.

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Last night, when Drewry and I went to First Fridays at the Pember, a local arts event in nearlby Granville, NY, we also walked to the Slate Museum, where there was more art on display, and I saw this house, perched on the riverside. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom