Argyle, Georgia

The Homestead

Decades of aging, generations of living,
Home to many, for love and warmth.
A history between its weathered walls,
Of births, sicknesses and passings.
Happy times, full of laughter,
Listen and you may still hear it.
Increased in size as the years passed,
Rooms added here and there,
As space was needed.
Outdoor plumbing, then to indoor use,
Times changed so many things.
Fires, so many fires over the years,
The old fireplace shows the wear.
Its use for cooking and warmth,
Heat stained bricks, it still works.
Yet from time you see its decaying,
The mortar cracked and missing.
The pump house, the barn,
Cracked weathered boards,
Some missing some only showing its age.
The homestead's history is in its characters,
From the simple shapes,
Its rust stained tin roof,
Its buildings surrounding it,
To the very old trees that shade it.
Over the years, decades of many,
These buildings still stand,
They continue to live,
Maybe crooked and leaning,
Propped up by any means,
To last one more decade.
You can envision the many hours,
Many happy times of many happy people,
That rocked and swung on its front porch.
Even with its aged smell,
Its creaks and cracks,
Its broken windows left screenless,
And its tilted floors,
With its cracked and stained plaster walls,
The visitor could still feel warm inside,
Just feeling all the life that had gone on.
With all its decaying,
Years of abandonment,
This old homestead still has life.

GravyDave © July 1998

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