A Place Once Called Home

The cottage stands there all alone,
Gardens forgotten .. overgrown.
With weeds trying hard to bury the past,
The crumbling foundation, surrendering at last.

Shutters askew.. windows broken .. bare
Roof and chimney.. not much left there.
Fragments of glass over the walk,
Poor little bungalow, If you could talk.

Would you tell me how once, you were somebody's dream?
Would you tell me of happier days you have seen?
Walls that in bygone days stood .. straight and tall,
Echo now with voices not there at all.

Once young and proud .. eager to taste,
All that life offers .. let naught go to waste.
Now old, and empty .. left standing alone,
Abandoned .. forgotten .. a place once called Home.

Poet:
© Sharon Langan