Jim C. Carpenter,The Old Home Place Revisited</head><body><center><center><img src=http://www.saviodsilva.com/p1.gif border=0 alt=Saviodsilva></center><hr color=3C00FF size=4><br><font size=4 face=arial><b><a href=49.htm>Jim C. Carpenter</a></b></font><br><center><img src=http://www.saviodsilva.net/poem/a/1.JPG border=0 alt=Poem></center><br><font size=3 face=arial><b>The Old Home Place Revisited</a></b></font></center><blockquote><blockquote><p align=left><p align=left><font face=arial size=2><b><p>The old home place looked lonely and forsaken today as I drove up thequarter mile dirt lane that meanders eastward from Northaven Road to theold abandoned farmhouse where I spent my boyhood days.<br>Once this was a lively place filled with activity and sounds of dailywork and play. Today the bustle and sounds were replaced by an eeriesilence; a silence broken only by the wind that whispered through thetall grass and weeds that grew everywhere, like a victorious armysurrounding it's conquered foe.<br>If this old house could only talk, what tales it would tell and whatsecrets it could reveal. But it can only stand in silence, patientlywaiting for the elements of nature to take their toll. Like an oldsoldier who has fought a good fight, it has lived out it's years ofglory and can only wait to gracefully and humbly return to theunforgiving and unrelenting dust of its mother, the earth.<br>By the summer of 1984, the old house was empty and abandoned. I wrotethese lines after a visit to the old home place that summer. The sad old house stands alone and still,<br>With a frown upon it's face.<br>Like a feeble derelict, stands and grieves,<br>In famine and disgrace.<br>I well remember years gone by,<br>When the house was in it's prime.<br>Before it's youth was whisked away,<br>By the sweeping winds of time.<br>But today I see through misty eyes,<br>In a sea of tangled weeds.<br>Occasional flowers growing wild,<br>From long forgotten seeds.<br>I hear some old familiar sounds,<br>Through memories unconfined.<br>And picture scenes of bygone days,<br>Through the windows of my mind.<br>Like me, the old house stands alone,<br>And awaits it's time to claim.<br>Whatever reward or recompense waits,<br>In the dust from whence it came.</p></b></font><hr color=0000ca size=3></blockquote></blockquote><center><font size=2 face=arial><b><a href=http://www.isavo.net/poem/sk5.htm>This Poem's Index Page 1</a><br><a href=http://www.yensa.net/poem/sk5.htm>This Poem's Index 2</a><br><a href=http://www.isavo.com/poems.htm>Poetry Website</a><br><a href=http://www.saviodsilva.com>Saviodsilva</a><br><a href=http://www.isavo.com>Isavo Site</a></b></font></center><SCRIPT LANGUAGE=JavaScript SRC=http://www.saviodsilva.org/r/fantasy.js></SCRIPT></body></html>