The grass is growing wildly
in the field beside the road.
Where the old home is vanishing
that once was our abode.
The roof is sagging lower
as the windows are now gone.
The stove that once feed us
is now out there on the lawn.
The old car that sits out back
hasn't moved for many years.
It's rusted roof is almost gone
just like our old frontiers.
The old barn that sat out back
was burned to the ground.
Now all that's left of it
is charred wood in a mound.
A wagon wheel still stands
by the entrance to the farm.
It might be the only thing
that's not come to any harm.
The front porch of the house
has fallen down over the door.
I wonder why we moved away
from this home that we ignore?
I was such a young boy
that I don't remember why.
My family built a new home
and let this one go awry.
Great Granddad built this place
when the west was very young.
A homestead that he worked
and where his hat was hung.
I still remember all the stories
that my father used to tell.
Now there gone forever
in this place we used to dwell.
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