The Old Weathered Shack (Poetry)

The Old Weathered Shack

The old weathered shack
With its chimney of brick
Stands alone in the field
Its frame empty but stoic

Loving hands built it
Those long years ago
With pride and with joy
It watched families grow

The lives that were led
Within rough-hewn walls
Precious memories now
That the house still recalls

Its halls once were filled
With laughter and tears
Dreams that came true
And yes— also the fears

The hustle and bustle
Of warm celebrations
Smells of home cooking
Earth’s bountiful creations

Now the house shivers
In the chill of the night
And waits for the warmth
Of the dawn’s breaking light

It longs for the sounds
Of young children at play
And the heat of the sun
In a full summer’s day

When did it all end
The house wants to know
As it stands all alone—
Where the wild grasses grow

© J C Edwards

Image from Google Labelled for Reuse