An Old-Country Drive
On a cloudy gray
Late fall day,
I spontaneously decide
To take an old-country drive...
Trees without leaves
Line the roadside,
Dark and shadowy
Like rigid statues that see nothing nearby.
Paintless wood frame houses archaic stand
Scattered here to there,
Relics of a long past day
Lost to something, somewhere.
Like abandoned old friends of former lives
Along the way they lie,
Quietly calling out
To each passer-by.
Bach, through the radio
Gives the surreal scene deep feeling,
As I drive into this past world
With its hinted vision of life and being.
Life as old as humanity itself
Seen along this meloncholic view,
Like long memories of deeply missed old-folks
Recalled by so very few.
Who shall remember them all?
The homes. The animals. The people and the barns,
The work and the play
Of these glorious forgotten family farms.
Perhaps, it's all still there! Somewhere-everywhere...
Within the course trees, under the silent stones,
Behind the decaying boards
Of the leaning abandoned homes.
Or barely out of reach
Just beyond the recollections of another time,
Those of the heart
And those of the mind.
The crooked road is
As the houses near it, quite old,
Time like a seductive snake slithers on-
It could be now - or very long ago.
[...] Read more
poem by Smoky Hoss
Added by Poetry Lover
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