ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©
It was nothing more than the skeletal remains of a deserted old building. The facade bore scars on its sun bleached boards. It had become pock marked by the bullets of hail. Remnants of a large bird nest topped the crooked chimney. Windows, soiled by years of lost memories, were now clothed with the silver threads of spider webs, glistening in the light of day.
Within the empty walls, you could almost hear voices from the past. Wallpaper barely clung to the mildewed walls. The floors creaked. A few dishes lined the sink- now coated with dust. A broken rocking chair sat at the center of the open space. How many babies had been rocked and comforted in that relic of architecture?
A tree branch crashed through the roof at some point and now seemed to belong there. The new life, budding from that seemingly dead branch, presented some semblance of hope in the midst of misery. It seemed that the bones were still in place. The foundation was solid. When the sun cast it brilliance on it, I knew this was once a home and it could be again.