There is a house.
It is a lonely house.
No one loves it any more.
No one visits.
No one cares.
My dad says someday some kids will burn it down.
Who knew so many arsonists live among us.
One day it was new.
It was built by hand. Board by board. Nail by nail.
It was lived in day by day.
It grew older year by year.
Then one day it was no longer wanted.
It sat and sat.
Paint peeling. Roof sagging. Window sill rotting. Foundation sinking.
Rocks were thrown. Windows broken.
No one came to its rescue.
Too far gone.
Not enough money.
Not enough time.
Not enough love.
So it sighs a bit deeper.
The floors moan a bit more.
The rain pours in.
The snow piles on.
The wind blows through.
And then one day a kid playing with fireworks burned it down.
Once again my dad was right.
…….
Photo credit: “Forsaken Dreams” by Edward M. Fielding
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