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Homestead
This house defines my beautiful
this house in which i grew;
what's good and fair and just in life
is what these walls hold true.
Good times hang in picture frames
between two sheets of glass,
and those we love who've gone too soon
rest stoically in brass.
Wreaths of roses were once young,
but now they hang and mourn
their loss of scent, this fade to brown,
and long to be reborn.
© 2013 Nicholas Emeigh
this house in which i grew;
what's good and fair and just in life
is what these walls hold true.
Good times hang in picture frames
between two sheets of glass,
and those we love who've gone too soon
rest stoically in brass.
Wreaths of roses were once young,
but now they hang and mourn
their loss of scent, this fade to brown,
and long to be reborn.
© 2013 Nicholas Emeigh
Notes: This poem was originally published to the web on January 29, 2007.
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