The Old Farm House

The old farm house stood
by the side of a nameless road,
it's occupants gone to a newer home
a better place,another abode,

it's windows were broken,
and it's roof was caved in
and i stood there and listened
to the whispering wind,

that blew through it's empty rooms,
and down it's empty hall
and played a game of tag,
with peeling paper on it's walls.

A stir of echos moved through my mind,
as a zypher moves dry and brittle leaves
echos of nostalgic thoughts,
and vague, bitter sweet memories.

Memories that stirred my very soul,
of another place,another time,
of summer picnics and ball games,
and wedding bell chimes,

of children playing there,
on a green and grassy lawn
playing childhoods brief games,
running hither thither and yon.

But all children grow up,
and they must move on
thier childish games forgotten,
as they have families of thier own,

leaving this old farm house
to it's loneliness, and decay,
to be re discovered by a stranger
passing by on his lonely way.

All these thoughts and more,
moved through my restless mind
as i gazed at the old farm house,
standing there in eloquent silence, sublime.

Story ID:	2170
Written by:	Bobby O'neill Mitchum (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Phenix City Alabama U.S.A.
Year:	2007
Person:	self