PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It stood hollow and empty now,

all the rooms were bare.

But once this old farmhouse,

was filled with love and care.



In the little parlor,

with the faded wallpaper of blue,

Is where Grand daddy proposed,

and where Grandma said , "I do."



Up and down the staircase,

many children had run.

The old farmhouse had seen them grow,

and watched them having fun.



Way up in the attic,

had held treasures of years before.

now all that remained,

were shadows and the dusty floor.



In the bright yellow kitchen,

is where everyone took their place.

For the tasty meals that Grandma prepared,

and where Grand daddy said the Grace.



Wrapped around the old farmhouse,

was a porch with the squeaky swing.

Its where they all gathered at night,

to listen to the crickets sing.



High upon a branch,

of the old oak tree out back,

Still hung that old tire,

now worn to a faded black.



There in the once lush garden,

Grandma had grown vegetables from seeds,

But all that was there now,

were twisted vines and weeds.



Surrounding the old farmhouse,

was a white fence with its rickety gate.

And the stone walkway that led to the door,

was now only crumbled slate.



The years had taken their toll,

this farmhouse had grown so old.

The only thing that was new,

was the sign out front that read, "SOLD."