Forgotten memories, Broken Dreams
The wanton wind whistles through pane-less windows
Winding its way unfettered along the walls.
Rain hammers holes on the sagging roof joints
Happily splashing the sanctum within.
Sun bleached boards, paint blistered and frail
The sun reaching in to shadows,
And dampness inhaled.
Only the spiders, dust mites and birds
Now frequent the once preserved rooms.
Where are the families?
Full of joy and adventure, hard work and love that once dwelt within?
The music of laughter and small pattering feet
Is that just beyond hearing?
Or is that too indiscreet?
Smells of wood smoke, and smells of roast
Of soap and of garden and work sweat and hope.
The smells now are dampness and dirt and decay
No wonder most people stay well , well away
Are the memories forgotten or just growing dim?
Does the swing in the garden still hang from a limb?
The path to the door now grown over with weeds
Where the flowers and veggies once grew to succeed.
The house is alone now.
And yet it holds memories of hopes and of dreams.
What became of them?
Forgotten memories, broken dreams
Of a life and a love more precious than now
Helping the neighbours with those bigger chores
Like haymaking, docking or fencing the gorge.
Shared abundance ,
Shared achievement and joy
The frustration of prices that easily destroy.
The buildings still stand, a testament renewed
To all those who strived and to those who withdrew.
Maybe they failed
Or just moved on with doubt
As the need for economy drove small farmers out.
Forgotten memories, Broken dreams
That's all that remains now or that's what it seems.
And yet there's a lesson for all who will look
Society's history is not only in books.