Driving along a country road in Kentucky, we came upon this house overtaken by shrubs and vines. Pulling off the road to explore further, it looked like it had slept for the past fifty years. Quietly approaching, I found myself moving slowly as if not to disturb the silence. It had seen better days when its paint was fresh and the screen door would slam countless times a day as children tore in and out again. Now it stood empty of voices. The porch swing remained and still squeaked in the breeze. At first I thought it was in protest to my trespass, but I realized it sounded a welcome .Requiring that I notice it still hung stalwart and strong, the guardian of many happier times.My witness would keep those memories safe a bit longer.
Tag Archives: country road
Turning onto a side road
Demoted by the interstate
Into a memory,
A lonely house holds its breath.
Dressed in rusted metal lace
And silvered siding,
Its parched paint wrinkles
Soften in the late afternoon sun.
Drunken doors whisper invitations.
As porches sagging from the weight
Of remembered footsteps,
Discourage casual visitors.
Ambitious vines strangle columns and posts
While roses cavort shamelessly.
The laboring sound of wasps and wood bees
Muffles its pleas for rescue.