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The boards creak and moan from time and poor carpentry The nails gripped by aged wood have become crust collected and shrunken to form The bare walls once displayed the smiling faces of past eons but now there are only the faded remnants of square foundations of lives that once hung on the wall The stairs complain like an old man from unsubstantiated fears The second floor seems solid only responding to the remarks of my shoes The old bedroom once the center of attraction overlooks the buckled sidewalks and **** infested yards of a street that now has no cars or people passing by I stand in silence for the moment and the moment stands silent for me And for that moment I lay in time's eternal graveyard in hopes of reviving dead dreams
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Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 5:35 AM UTC
The old home
The boards creak and moan from time and poor carpentry The nails gripped by aged wood have become crust collected and shrunken to form The bare walls once displayed the smiling faces of past eons but now there are only the faded remnants of square foundations of lives that once hung on the wall The stairs complain like an old man from unsubstantiated fears The second floor seems solid only responding to the remarks of my shoes The old bedroom once the center of attraction overlooks the buckled sidewalks and **** infested yards of a street that now has no cars or people passing by I stand in silence for the moment and the moment stands silent for me And for that moment I lay in time's eternal graveyard in hopes of reviving dead dreams
South-by-Southwest
Written by
75/M/Birmingham , Alabama
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 5:35 AM UTC
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