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There it sat, in the
moonlight,
No longer hearth or home
to any one;
No light in the darkened
window to call
The weary traveler, when
the day was done ...
Cold ashes in the old
fireplace,
No spark and no embers
glow;
Cracks in the plaster
walls
Forgotten, in time. 'Tis
so sad to know.
Once, a family had lived
here, in this place,
where they grew and loved,
and tended it with care;
and knew generation after
generation
that had tended it with
good repair.
Then, one day, they all
left, never to return.
The house, now, sits,
appearing sad and so
forlorn;
No curtains dressed the
windows,
Not another generation
here was born.
Snow covered the sagging
roof.
From the eaves, long ice
spears hung.
No warm fire to welcome
the weary traveler
Inside, no loving songs
being sung ...
Rainspout tore from the
house and
Lay in the falling,
drifting, snow; then
hidden.
Doors unlocked and left
ajar;
To enter was, now,
forbidden.
There, on the broken door,
A no trespass sign was
posted.
Only the spiders of the
summer and
Animals of the winter, in
here, was hosted.
It had fallen in such
disrepair,
No more love inside;
Spirit, so long ago,
departed ~
No longer a vision of
one's pride.
The old man had grown so
feeble
After she had gone on
ahead.
The old house echoed sweet
memory
Of the things they did and
said.
How they had loved each
other and,
Lovingly, raised their
children in this home.
But, now, he just walked
from room to room
After she left him there,
alone.
As he sat in his old
rocking chair,
Watching the days come and
go,
How many tears he cried
for her
No one would ever know.
Then, one day, the postman
came and
Opened the door to give
the man his mail.
There the old man sat,
Looking white and pale.
Reaching out to touch the
gnarled
Fingers of hands cold and
blue,
Fearing what he beheld;
The old man had gone to
heaven, too.
The kids all grown and,
for years now,
Had left and moved away.
None had any interest, so
sad,
In the old house, that
day.
After taking their
precious father to
Where their mother was
long ago buried,
Now they were, once again,
together ~
Separated, only by death,
since the day they'd
married.
Locking the doors, for one
last time,
Of that old house and,
turning, took one last
look;
Like closing the cover
Of a well read family
book.
The house had known so
much love
And provided shelter to
its own.
The old cold house (now so
dark),
Just a house, no longer
was a home.
What it really needed was
a family
To light a new fire
inside;
To hear laughter, once
again, ring out
And for love to come ...
there to abide.
With a little tender care,
The house would come to
life, once more:
New curtains at the
windows and such,
And a welcome mat at the
door.
Fire in the fireplace,
In the window ~ a candle
lit;
Signal, to the weary
traveler,
A home and hearth, and
love inside of it.
A time to make new
memories,
A place for children to
grow up and live,
Nourished by a family in
love secure.
A shelter, this old house
could give.
© 2003 by Sandra Griffin
txu1-081-180
http://www.our.homewithgod.com/sandra
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