Where the weeds have overgrown.

From my boyhood years, I still recall

joyously running through the old back door.
But my joyous shouts shout no more...
As my sister sleeps on a graveyard floor.

In this old home, where once we lived,
the weeds have overgrown.
The swing set's now a rusted thing;
the see-saw sits alone.

Our youth now seems like a made-up dream.
Old picture frames display a theme
with Mom and Dad near the backyard tree.

Yet sadly, all that's left
is me.

Author's Note

A man goes back to his abandoned childhood home.

Reviews

[WithinTheHeart]

Detailed imagery...that truly captivates the reader.
It is sometimes difficult to go back to that place of our youth.
Memories overflow and thoughts are endless.
Your expression is extraordinary.

[T]

Thank you very much. :)

[KT-B]

I loved this, you have a fantastic way of summing everything up that would mean so much to others not just yourself, memories, loss, melancholy, love, heartache...fantastic- this is really wonderful i'm picture my gran and auntie whilst they were alive bickering away as they did bringing their memories back to life and it's brilliant.:)

[T]

Thank you so much KT. I'm happy you enjoyed it. :)

[Vria P Crow]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Firstly, I stared at the image for a long while. There was so much sombre beauty in the photograph. I was wondering if it was something you got off the internet or took yourself. Either way, it complimented the poem very well.

CONTENT AND FORMAT

I envisioned the speaker as a middle aged man or woman that returned to her family home. There were memories in the house; a familial ruin and tomb. The narrator was caught in a nostalgia for her parents or perhaps grandparents given the word "elderly." As I read and absorbed each line, my felt as though an anchor sunk my heart. I gained a personal connection to this poem for I dread the day my elderly parents pass away. A little piece has been taken from the writer.

CLOSING THOUGHTS

Overall, this poem embodied tragic beauty. Unfortunately, I have not sensed hope in the general tone. Therefore, I would like to offer some light into its content. The balance of life and death is a difficult subject; it is a burden and a gift. A part of our soul will be taken by loved ones who die before us, but those pieces are preserved in our souls; the reflections are held in the photographs or memories. Thank you for sharing!

sincerely,
ria

[T]

an excellent review Ria. Indeed it is about a man who comes back to his old abandoned home where his parents lived. Their memories are strong as he examines the house. Sadness wells up inside him knowing he is now basically orphaned...even as an adult.

A friend of mine came back from another state to say goodbye to his father who was terminally ill. Upon seeing his old home where he used to live (next door to me) he found himself crying in his car knowing someone else lived in his ol home. It's where I got the idea for this poem.

Thanks so much for your review. I wish I could review as well as you. :)

[Vria P Crow]

You are very welcome. :D Awe. I am sure you review just as well.

[Kelly Scheppers]

The weight of your words rest heavy upon my heart. What an extraordinary piece of work this is!

[T]

I thank you.

[Tony]

Very fine work, it is about siblings yes?

[T]

Thank you. It's about a man going back to his mother and father's house now abandoned. (their elderly voices).

[Tony]

Oh yes, that makes perfect sense, my only wish is that it was longer! If you have time, I would love a comment on my story I just uploaded tonight. If not, I understand, keep up the good work!

[T]

I always try and return the favor. I'll be there when I can.