time worn scars of plaster
falling pieces of an old ceiling
the flaking lead laced paint of a baluster
a rail leaning no longer
capable of my weight spoke
of a long forgotten wheel
of a bike some child road
down the now wisteria overgrown path
in glee. to the porch now slant and weak,
a frame rotted by time by pissants gnawing
by neglect passing ten years after
helpless to hear the memories
the Christmas's glee the large gatherings
once for Thanksgiving, and oh the New year's,
I see in the glass broken windows the glee,
that must have been ,  I see the young mouths
full of smiles, in the falling down glimpses.