poetry

Ruin

When the last residents vacated

the house broke

You see, there is no grace in breaking

It was chaos in the beginning

the pictures that once decorated the walls

Were replaced by cobwebs

Scabs from the ceiling fell down

The house smelled musky

You see, breaking is not beautiful

However several seasons later

the roof leaked

And the door cracked

Letting in both the rain and sun

The floor became earth again

and the wind brought along the seeds

there grew a garden

of moss and wildflowers

You see, after a while

When what has to,

breaks

everything goes numb

while the grounds splits

to allow growth

and then the house waits

patiently

for someone to make a home

while it is already one to many

and then one rainy day

a traveller

finds the place

on her way to nowhere

she peeks inside

and is mesmerized with the beauty

that was born in the

Ruin.

1 thought on “Ruin”

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