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The poetry of Kris Mercer

 

The Old House


The old house stood empty,
desolate and deserted.
The rooms once filled with
laughter and happiness
now echoed
in the hollowed out shell.
The facade crumbled
under the tangled web of
ivy and the core fell into
disrepair.
But the sun shone through
the now broken windows.
Reflecting memories of the
past.
Only a sympathetic hand
and a sentimental heart can
restore what once was.

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