all along the fence
small pink roses were blooming
dry oak leaves and twigs
covered the cracked gray asphalt
of the twisted country road
where it turned sharply and passed
the tall narrow old farm house
now covered in blackberries
its broken windows staring
from beneath the thorny veil
front door open and gaping
and the stairs now fallen down
i slowed as i was passing
and thought of all the stories
happy, sad and beautiful
that had been lived within it
this creaking old derelect
now just home to the dry wind
and forgotten dreams