It’s time again to visit the old New England home.
The quaint New England village
Antique shops, country stores.
set against the backdrop
of fall’s spectacular display
of crimson and gold foliage
And the old New England home.
Her porch adorned with cornstalks and pumpkins.
Her flowerbeds full of yellow and rust-colored mums.
Arrogantly she stands.
She knows her admirers.
How they delight in her unassuming
She leaves her admirers to wonder
whether she is listed in the registry
of historic homes.
not even she
acknowledges that her charms will fade
with the dropping of the leaves.
Wait a bit.
Four weeks perhaps.
Then visit again.
go on in.
Push open the door that doesn’t quite want to give.
She’s not easy, you know.
Hear the creak of the plank floor as you step inside.
Smell the mothballs
and the scent of doorknobs
touched too many…
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