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Forsaken Idle
December 20, 2022
Forsaken Idle
Stowe Wengenroth, House of Port Clyde, 1938, Lithograph
Lonely, treasured, and abandoned.
Rusted out old and new.
Flying winds, blowing trees like a hurricane.
Black, gray, and white.
Old wooden doors, torn apart,
Glass shattering, as the ground shakes.
Shingles torn apart, dancing with the wind.
Dark winds carried over the house, howling in hunger.
Clouds brewing in darker and darker,
Crowded but a lonely place.
Holding onto everything that is dead and gone.
© Anonymous
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