The Mansion

By
Such pride that house once held, perched upon the hill,

Now shattered, broken hopes are trapped in the cold walls,

The bulldozers are humming a dreary melody,

Crashing the home down to its decay,

It holds its tired head tall, and the pane less windows weep,

And I then begin to wonder,

How did the owner feel, as something of such regal beauty fell to the ground,

Did their hearts break, as mine does now?

When was the last time someone placed their palm against the strong walls, and told the home it was loved?

Was it loved?

Had there been babies born? Their tiny delicate feet waddling across the floor,

Who had poured all their energy, all their imagination into the design?

Now those dark windows stare sadly down

at me,

A place where life once lived,

Now crumbles to the earth.





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