15. Nov, 2020

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.

Rejected.

Forgotten.

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

Working together

Family around

Helping the neighbours with those bigger chores

Like haymaking, docking or fencing the gorge.

Shared exertion,

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.