This Old House


The beauty of growing old is what has transpired to bring us to this point. Character and strength become lasting qualities that in the end exit with us. As we age and our structures fail the beauty in our life comes in our children and grandchildren remembering who we are and what we represented.  We all pass on a legacy. The question is what that legacy will be. With those we love, or isolated and all alone?

This old house sits naked and exposed

Shivering in the wind and snow

Windows cracked and broken wide open


Chilled to the bone sitting all alone

Once a fine family home

With joy and laughter all around

Now empty  voiceless resting in cold isolation

Stark stately beauty silhouetted against the white shroud

Weeds and brambles robbed in heavenly crystals

Out in the back we find the shack


With frosted rims and dry holes

Home for mud daubers and wasps

Sitting all alone in a field of white

The door flapping in the wind

No warm bottoms thawing the seats


Peaking through broken panes I see

Floorboards lifting plaster walls crumbling

Evidence of termites on sills and porch

This house sits on death row

Awaiting demolition or Department torch

Dust to dust ashes to ashes

To be remembered no more

Just tales blowin’ in the wind


B & W Photos: Dwight L. Roth

8 thoughts on “This Old House

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