An old log cabin long forgotten
by Jimmye Watson
covered with brush like a dome,
Its wooden roof rotting away,
a chimney of crumbling stone,
Doors creaking, shutters sagging,
windows broken and gone. The mind flies to another time
when life was active here:
A spring garden, cotton and corn
and flowers growing near,
Marble games and childish play,
a world devoid of fear. These old walls rang with laughter,
Sometimes pain, death and sorrow,
There were ties that bound the hearts,
and dreams shared for tomorrow.
Oh, this home so long forgotten,
can your peace now be borrowed? From these logs, if spirits whispered,
many stories they would tell,
Where are those that dwelt amid them
whose lives were sheltered well?
The old cabin long forgotten,
its secrets forever held.