Poetry By Ken in Rainbow Colors




No one travels there anymore
To knock on that creaky door
It has been empty for decades,
No one is home in the glade.

No one rest in the cool of shade
As sunsets fade over the glade
The weathered front porch is still,
Serenaded by cries of whippoorwill.

Windows are broken into shards
Weeds have overgrown the yards
A musty smell fills the dim rooms
Once perfumed by garden blooms.

A rusting plow waits in the field
That long ago finished it's yield
Where two mules pulled that plow
Thrives only wildflowers now.

Where howling winds sadly moan
Was a home that brightly shown,
A stately white house once stood
Just over a bridge amid the woods.

The battered barn has fallen down
Once cherry red it lies dark brown,
A storm uprooted the spreading oak
It covers the well that nurtured folk.

Crossing a shaky covered bridge
Leads to a meadow below a ridge
Where yet stands grandpa's place,
I lived there before wrinkled of face.

Once a fearless little boy strutted
Along a wagon road deeply rutted
And lingered over the waters roar
On a bridge no one crosses anymore.


©Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison 08-22-09

Song title: "The Leaving Of Liverpool"

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