poem of the day December 17 

Buildings falling don

wherever you look

Forgotten farms line

the old tired seldom used highway

once the main road to nirvana

I see ghosts of past generations

toiling fields long gone 

All that remains of their

once proud lives are

ravished barns and houses

now just shells leaning

somewhere into disrepair

on a path no longer traveled

in a place long forgotten 

Allowing time to pass

silently year after year

slowly eroding dead dreams into stardust