Houses, where there use to be farm's!

A farm without a name

Thu the fog and past rain's mist
Your foot step's still linger
and the shadow of lighting your cigar in the distance

Your hat shadowed your face
as you walked on your way
Your footsteps left an imprint here
In more way's then i can say

That laugh in the wind
still can be heard if you listen
and the image of your tractor
Harvesting while reminiscing.

Standing and hearing that plow in the distance
Star's in the air, of a clear night
Animal's wondering with resistance.

The smell of freshly cut hay
and over turned ground
over come's all my seances
The smell of earth all around.

This farm has been here for more year's then we know
Can't it stay here, for more Generation's to grow?

Why do thing's have to change?
As i find myself sitting in a vacant lot
with what use to be a house,
and a barn that would never rot

The picture has changed
the landscape totally remodeled
what i use to think of my past
was plowed over and unraveled

Just dirt and soil remain
a left over hole in the ground
from a foundation without a name
and empty field's of weed's
put my pap's farm to shame.

No matter how it is today
I still have my dreams
where my Pap is still here
Lighting his cigar in the breeze

 

now come on people, my poem's cant be that bad, that no one want's to comment on them, my goodness.lol

 

I love this....

 

thanks