Nobody home for twenty years,
the house sits empty and dissolving
rain by rain, and yet still holds its history,
so long as the last of the family line,
who died without descendants,
are remembered on the surrounding farms
where you'll hear the same phrase said,
"It used to be a showcase," reminding us,
of a certain age, of own progressing dereliction,
though, on a good day, not without a smile,
for while our siding may be crumbling
and our curtains hang in tatters, oh,
weren't we once a showcase, too,
and, mercy, weren't we something?
