House in the Village

by James W. Spain, II


I live in a home
in a small New England village.

Not a famous home,
George Washington never slept here.

It is a very old home
made with post and beam and square cut nails

by craftsmen
from a bygone era.

The family that built this house
over a hundred year ago

did not go very far,
just down the road to the family cemetery.

I visit them sometimes
say a prayer and leave some flowers at the grave.

I can still sense the past in this house,
the joy, love and sorrow,

holidays from the past and
funerals in the front parlor.

As I gaze out to the cemetery I am looking through the same
old swirled glass with bubbles that they looked through.

Looking at the same surroundings
that first family looked at.

Not many things have changed;
History repeats itself…

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