I had past the house,
Only twice before.
Alone and peeling,
standing in the tobacco field.
It struck me as a bit sad each time.
unloved by family and weather-
overseeing a crop that was destined
for weathered lips and worn out lungs.
But then I saw it in the Carolina spring.
Its paint peels were curls of feathered lead.
The field was a riot of purple blooms-
tickling the foundation.
And the pillar that held the front porch had collapsed.
The house was smiling in its grand fade.
The acceptance was joyful.
hello and welcome green creepers and morning glories.
hello and welcome little critters who play at twilight on my crooked grin.
do not feel sad passerby,
I am returning to the sweet dark smelling earth
to begin again.
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