Fixing a Broken Home

Two brown paper bags and a small red tool box,

is what I first carried into my broken home.

The walls were bare, the floor was cold

the door was broken still

the sight and air were both

so frigid; but my heart

was lit and warm

So many promises broken before now,

So many hard lies told

but I see the sincerity in his eyes,

as we stood there at the door.

He says he wants to try again,

he says he loves me dearly.

Although it will take pain and time,

I have no choice but to

believe him.

The area and town are sad,

with not much but loneliness and trees.

Just down the path our neighbor cries,

with both her children in the ground.

We have faith still,

what else could work?

To fix up our broken home.

Reviews

[Hitchhiker]

Such a very sad poem, Macie, but, and there is always a "but." This "but" is in the form of a tiny crack of sunlight making its way into the lives of two people who wants to "try again." This trying again is something which never quite works out like people think it will. They may believe the old passionate sparks will come back, but that rare ever happens. Angry words have been thrown around, and those words will never be forgotten. Still . . . That tiny crack of sunlight is enough to try and buck the odds. I wish them well.

[MacieLogan]

This just gave me so much inspiration thank you Hitchhiker! :)