Brigette Block
PGSS

21020

The wide open 83 all around,
Enchanted with the ever-changing seasons
Caressing every section of its magnificence.
The sheer beauty of Mother Nature
Engulfing you in her essence,
Right to the point where the
Mountain peaks pierce the sky.
The old, rustic barn haunted with
The feel of the Old West,
Yet brought back to this day and age
By the modern day shops.
The garden that grows with life
To be harvested at the summers end,
Leaving the naked stems of the raspberry bushes
To be the only thing left standing
At the harvests end in the fall.
The old farm house towering strong
Despite the years of life gradually wearing it down,
Still filled with the strength of a life time of memories
Bound as the very foundation supporting its structure.
The secrets left untold haunting the halls like
The fog haunts the fields on a cold, brisk morning.
Cursed with the angry screaming
Of problems left unsolved.
The furniture that has been on
More road trips than most people
Coming down to the point of never ending work,
Day in and day out.
The thoroughly lived in room crying from the pain
Of repeatedly broken hearts and worn down souls,
Leaving these souls filled with the vast emptiness of the
House called home, despite the cramping of the items
Contained within the confinements of these walls.