The Elder House

a poem by Matt, one of my 8th grade students

There sits upon the hill of dust The Elder House,
and there the dust of old gathers.
It is an old house, heavy with the reek of ages,
and last of the survivor of nature,
yet even now Mother Nature climbs its walls
spreading vines of vileness into the deep cracks in its sides.
And The Elder House stands,
broken and abandoned, it sits and waits.

Long have the windows broken;
now the wind pounds on the naked walls,
and rain floods the rooms within,
yet The Elder House stands and waits.
The wood of its floors has long decomposed;
leaving the kingdom of insects to reside
within its crumbling frame, and
The Elder House still sits and waits.

Long have every shred of care and love left the house and departed,
yet The Elder House waits.
Long has it passed out of memory to those it once sheltered,
yet The Elder House waits.

Long has the house been abolished,
crushed under the weight of the earth,
yet The Elder House waits.
Long has its shadow faded, its walls gone to dust,
its foundation gone to air, its roof gone to oblivion,
yet The Elder House waits.

And forever it will,
when all days have passed into ashes it will wait,
when all time has aged to sand it will wait,
when the void of space long has since been turned into myth and nothingness
The Elder House will wait.

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